


Road Trip Games and Love

by rgfalso



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Breakfast, Car Fic - as in 90 percent of it takes place in the car, Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, First Dates, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Footnotes, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Morning After, Music as a Plot Device, Mutual Pining, Overthinking, Post-Canon, Queen - Freeform, Slow Dancing, The Bentley Ships It, but there's no actual smut, no beta we saunter vaguely downwards like Crowley, rated teen for cursing and vague mentions of sex, road trip games, sex banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2020-10-19 13:10:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 52,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20657795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rgfalso/pseuds/rgfalso
Summary: One week after the Armaggedidn't, Crowley and Aziraphale go out for a picnic out of London. Unfortunatelly for them, they get caught on a really nasty traffic jam. With nothing to do to pass the time, they engage in some of the most classical road trip games. However, what was initially inteded to be just innocent games starts to delve into the Thing™️ between them, the thing that both of them are very aware of, but neither dares to speak of it. Cue absurd ammounts of flirting, pining and dancing around the issue.Who knows, maybe it will lead them to actually talk about the elephant in the room (who's actually tired of being ignored for millenia now).





	1. Queen and Other Love Songs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i'm writting a multi-chaptered fic again oh god it's been years since the last time i managed more than a oneshot  
anyways  
this fic is kind of a book-show hybrid; it is totally based on the series, but there are a few tidbits sprinkled here and there that make reference to book stuff. but nothing that anyone who never read the book woudn't be able to understand, just the usual stuff  
for this chapter, the only book tidbits i reference that are not in the show are the fact that any cd that spends more than a fortnight at the bentley turns into a queen album and the fact that crowley tends to hiss when he forgets himself.  
huh, i'll try to post a new chapter every week or two, but i tend to over-write and sometimes the chapters get really long and i have to spend way more time writting them, so please be patient with me  
i hope you all enjoy this, i really enjoyed/am enjoying writting this

After that whole fiery ordeal on the M25 on the afternoon of the would-be Armaggedon, Crowley had sworn to himself he would never, ever, set foot (or his car) back on that damned (or, better saying, blessed) freeway again. Even if it had been one of the biggest achievements of his career, or perhaps, because of it, he knew that it was a big trap to make as many british human’s lives miserable as possible.

**Human **lives, not demon lives. Not his own.

Even without it being a fucking ring of infernal fire, the constant traffic jams were a big no-no for him. For one, he couldn’t drive insanely fast and recklessly (not really reckless per se, since he wouldn’t ever crash due to a little demonic miracle of his own, but it was the principle of the matter that counted) like he loved to on a stupidly crowded freeway, and so, what was the point? And the car lines were just simply fucking annoying, with all that honking and fighting, such a waste of time. No sir, never again. He’s done with that stupid highway.

And he would never have had to deal with it again, if it wasn’t for…

\- My dear, I believe I owe you a picnic, don’t I? – Aziraphale, also known as Crowley’s best friend and secretly the love of his life, had brought the topic one night, as they were hanging out, surprisingly sober, at the angel’s restored bookshop. It had been a week since the Armaggedon-that-wasn’t, and there hadn’t been a day when they hadn’t seen each other since then. If asked, both of them would probably say that it was for protection: in case their ex-Head Offices came for them again, it would be better to face them off together rather than on their own. Both of them knew it was a lie, a half-truth at best. - I promised you I would take you on one someday, back in 1967. Can I assume you would still be willing to give me the honor of your company?

The demon, never being one to reject any offer to spend (even more) time with the angel, answered with a simple shrug, trying to look nonchalant1: - Ngh, sure, would love to, I guess. Whatever.

-Oh, lovely to hear that. – the angel rejoiced, beaming so brightly that his smile could light up the whole city. Crowley smiled softly, infected by his happiness. The other’s smile grew even bigger at that. – And I think I know just the place! Somewhere we have never been to before, although I’ve always wanted to visit it.

Now, Crowley was a simple demon: whatever his angel wanted and he could provide, he would. His angel wanted a picnic on the bloody South Downs Park? He would take his angel to the bloody South Downs Park.

Even if he had to face the fucking M25 again to do so.

The things he does for love…

-You see, angel, if you had wanted to have our picnic at, I don’t know, Berkley Square, or St. James, then **maybe **we could have it in this century still.

It doesn’t mean he won't be a bitch about it, though.

At the start of this story, the angel and the demon were stuck in one hell (or one heaven, your choice) of a traffic jam. The traffic on M25 is naturally slow due to the huge number of vehicles who transit it on a daily basis, but on that specific day on which our story takes place, there had been an accident on the road ahead of them, which naturally caused the traffic to go even slower, making the already relatively long trip from Soho to South Downs, even longer.

The angel on the front passenger seat (probably the only being the demon would ever willingly let sit there) sighed. – Don’t be so dramatic, my dear. This is just a mild inconvenience. We are early on our schedule, I’m sure we’ll get there before the sun goes down. – he assured, with a comforting smile, before turning his gaze towards the window, to watch the (almost null) movement of the cars on the road.

-Tsc. – the demon grunted, fishing for his cellphone on the back pocket of his jeans.- If you are so willing to waste your time away doing nothing and watching the fucking road, be my guest. I’m gonna do something useful with my time and create some drama on Twitter because I’m bored. – However, as soon as the demon unlocked his phone2, the screen went black and it died, out of battery. -Oh, you’ve got to be **fucking** kidding me. I charged this thing this morning. Fucking useless battery, these things don’t last shit nowadays.

Still glancing through the window, Aziraphale fought to hide a smirk. Now, you could interpret that smirk as a simple expression of gladness, since he wouldn’t be ignored by his favorite person in all of Creation in detriment of a piece of metal. Or you could interpret it as a smug caused by the satisfaction of having inconspicuously miracled the battery of his best friend and secret love of his life’s cellphone to zero so that the demon could probably be coerced into paying attention to him (In his defense, if it were the case, he could always argue that he was thwarting his evil schemes, preventing him from fomenting dissent on social media). Either way, he was happy with the outcome.

-I’m sure I left the car charger somewhere around here… - mumbled the demon, searching around on the car. The angel sighed.

\- Crowley, don’t you know it’s rude to use your phone when you’re talking to someone?

\- We’re not exactly talking, angel. – the demon replied, opening the glovebox where he kept his emergency sunglasses, in hopes of finding the car charger stuffed in there. It wasn’t. - You are staring out the window like there’s a goddamn library out there, and I’m trying to kill time on my phone. Besides, I’m a demon, remember? I’m **supposed **to be rude.

\- Dear, please. – the angel pleaded, staring at Crowley with his rendition of puppy eyes. It had never, in all the millennia they had known each other, failed to nudge Crowley to do whatever he was asking him to do. It didn’t start failing now.

\- Okay, Aziraphale, you wanna chat? Then let’s chat. – barked Crowley, shutting the glovebox with more force than it was needed, and turned his annoyed gaze towards the principality. - About what, may I ask you? Is there anything, any topic of conversation, that we have not discussed to exhaustion in the six thousand years we’ve known each other?

_Yes, there is., _both of them thought simultaneously. Neither said it.

-Well, I guess we have never discussed… erm… - stalled Aziraphale, looking around the car for anything that could serve as a conversation starter. His eyes landed on the stash of CDs laying in front of him. - … the bebop songs you like to listen to? We could listen to them if you’d like. I’ve actually never listened to any of them.

The demon’s jaw dropped and his foot almost hit the accelerator in surprise.

\- You. Want. To listen. To Queen.- punctuated Crowley, incredulously. Then, he started roaring with laughter. - Are you sure it’s not too modern for you? I mean, it is from the seventies, so it should be at least a century too recent for you. And you can’t dance the gavotte to it.

He loved Aziraphale, more than anything in his life, but he loved teasing him almost as much.

The angel pouted slightly, but with a hint of a smile on his lips. – Well, I mean, it is a part of you, that I know almost nothing about, and I’d like to know it better. All of you. – immediately, the angel heard what he had said without really thinking and blushed slightly, averting his gaze to the window again and playing with his fingers - I mean, of course, only if… if you want me to, it’s absolutely fine if you don’t, I just…

\- It’s alright, angel. – muttered Crowley, also with a faint red on his cheeks and gripping the wheel with almost enough force to break it. He made a move to pick up a CD without really looking3 and inserting it on his CD player, with just a slight tremor on his hand. And, well, if the demon’s heart started beating a little faster at the angel’s words, no one would ever know.

\- Okay, I’m gonna start your Queen crash course with the best of them all, _Bohemian Rhapsody_ – he announced, steadying his voice again, simply hitting play on the disk player, since he knew it was the first song on the tape. However, instead of the sweet chords of _Is this the real life/ Is this just fantasy?_, what actually came out on the speakers was:

_Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat (grow faster, faster)_  
_Ooh ooh, Can you feel my love heat, ooh_  
_ Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love_  
_ And tell me how do you feel right after-all_  
_ I'd like for you and I to go romancing_  
_ Say the word, your wish is my command_

\- What the **fuck**? – shrieked the demon, in genuine surprise and terror. He risked a glance towards the angel, who was staring back at him, his mouth slightly ajar still noticeably red in the face4. Crowley could feel his own cheeks warming up exponentially, and let out a nervous chuckle, trying to defuse the tension between them. – Ah, my finger must have slipped and I selected the wrong song. Oops. My bad. _Nevermind the fact that 1) this song shouldn’t even be near Bohemian Rhapsody on the album and 2) that it started randomly playing from the middle of the song._, he thought.

Crowley was almost sure he knew what was happening, and it wasn’t a slip of a finger, but he prayed to Go-Sat-**Someone** to be wrong.

-I’m just gonna…- he trailed off, skipping to the next song. _Another One Bites the Dust. Yeah, that’s a good one. Can never go wrong with that one. _He hit the play button again and:

_Every breath that you take_  
_Any sound that you make_  
_ Is a whisper in my ear_  
_ I could give up all my life for just one kiss_  
_ I would surely die_  
_ If you dismiss me from your love_  
_ You take my breath away_

\- You ssssstupid excussssse of a car.5– hissed the demon, in a very quiet tone so the other passenger on the car wouldn’t listen to him mumbling, while vehemently hitting the power button. It didn’t turn off. - I know it’ssssss you who’s doing that, you glorified piece of junk. I’m gonna sssssell you on fucking eBay, you piece of crap.

-Crowley? – inquired the angel, worried about his friend’s hissing and grumbling.

\- Just a second, angel, I’m trying to get this malfunctioning piece of shit to work properly so we can… - before he could finish his sentence, though, the song changed once more:

_Just one year of love_  
_Is better than a lifetime alone_  
_ One sentimental moment in your arms_  
_ Is like a shooting star right through my heart_  
_ It's always a rainy day without you_  
_ I'm a prisoner of love inside you_  
_ I'm falling apart all around you, yeah_  
_ My heart cries out to your heart_  
_ I'm lonely but you can save me_  
_ My hand reaches for to your hand_  
_ I'm cold but you light the fire in me_

\- Oh, **fuck** me. – Crowley moaned, leaning his head against the steering wheel, slumping defeated - This is your revenge, isn’t it? You wanna get back on me for letting you burn last week, don’t you? Please, if you’re going to kill me, just drive me off a cliff, it will be less painful…

The sound of earnest and pure laughter broke him out of his dejected rant. He glanced towards the angel, looking at him again for the first time since the whole music fiasco started, and almost dropped his jaw. His angel was positively glowing, metaphorically and literally, being bathed by the sunlight coming from the window and showing him that beautiful smile that never failed to light up even the darkest parts of the demon’s soul. He couldn’t stop the fond smile that spread across his lips at the sight of Aziraphale looking so… beautiful. Thank Someone for the sunglasses in front of his eyes, preventing Aziraphale from seeing his lovesick stare.

Aziraphale for once was feeling quite giddy and bubbly. The feeling of love emanating from these songs was enough to get his body all tingly, but hearing that and thinking about Crowley made him feel like he was on cloud nine. He wanted to scream his love for the demon for Heaven, Hell and the whole Earth to listen. He wanted to take his hand and not let go for a whole century. He wanted to embrace him and feel his heat envolve him like a blanket. He wanted to kiss him until their lips got numb and their bodies succumbed to exhaustion, only to lay on each other’s arms.

But he couldn’t do all that (_not yet, at least_, he thought, yearningly) so he just giggled affectionally to let go of all that pent-up energy building up inside him.

-Oh, dear boy, are these songs really that unbearable to you? I…I find them quite pleasing.- he admitted, with a faint blush on his cheeks.

-Ngh, they’re not bad, just… too mushy and corny for my taste.- half-lied the demon, lifting his head from the steering wheel and sighing. _And they make me think of you so much it actually hurts_. - ‘Course **you **would like them, though. Being all lovey-dovey like you are.

\- Well, I admit that I feel quite pleased by the feeling of love behind these songs. – the angel confessed, playing with the buttons of his coat, suddenly feeling very exposed - But… not that I am complaining, of course, I really like these, but are there only songs from that Freddie Mercury fellow? Can’t …your car play songs from other artists? 

\- Oh, I don’t know, **can** it? – he snarled at the car, looking at it viciously as if daring him to do it. He immediately regretted doing that:

_If I could make the world as pure_  
_ And strange as what I see_  
_ I'd put you in a mirror_  
_ I put in front of me_  
_ I put in front of me_

_Linger on, your pale blue eyes_  
_ Linger on, your pale blue eyes_

_Oh, that’s it. You’re fucking dead._

_-_Oops. – the demon exclaimed, faking surprise, after secretly miracling the engine of the Bentley to stop working all of sudden, making smoke come out of the car hood – Would you look at that? It seems like the car just broke, like the **piece of shit – **he said those words emphatically, staring holes at the car - that it is. I swear to Someone, one of these days I’m gonna have to **replace** it.

\- Oh, dear. – the angel interjected, not completely believing in the convenience of the timing of the incident, but going along with it all the same – Do you.. do you need to take it to a mechanic? We can postpone our picnic…

\- No, it’s alright, angel, nothing that I can’t fix in a minute or two. – Crowley answered, with a reassuring smile, already opening the door on his side. – Just stay here, I’ll be back in a few. – with that, he got out of the car and walked towards the hood, still wearing that pleasant smile on his face. As soon as he opened it and knew his face was out of Aziraphale’s field of vision, he let the fake smile drop and turned it into a scowl, as he tried with all his might to not slam his hands down.

-What the **Heaven** are you playing at? – he whisper-shouted, furious, fairly secure that Aziraphale wouldn’t listen to him since all windows were closed but not wanting to risk it. - Are you trying to discorporate me from sheer mortification? Do you **want** me to drive off a cliff and kill us both?

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself down. - Look, I know you’re trying to help me. I get it. You, more than anyone else, know how I feel about him6. But you, more than anyone else, should also know that it’s useless. Even if he does feel something for me, he made his intentions very clear back in 1967. – his voice hitched a little, as a tremor passed through his spine, but he kept going, with a sad tone on his voice – He doesn’t want to be with me like that. I’m lucky enough to be his best friend, it’s even more than what I deserve.

Outside of the demon’s field of vision, hidden by the opened hood of the car, the angel was grinning softly, with his hands over his heart and his eyes shining brighter than most of the stars on the universe. He leaned over, whispering on the CD player as if whispering in someone’s ear – Hey… what are you trying to do? Are you trying to tell me that… that he... – and then the angel burst on a fit of giggles, as if he were a schoolgirl talking about her first crush with her best friend (to be fair, although Aziraphale wasn’t a schoolgirl per se, Crowley actually **was** his first and only crush).

Normally he would feel silly talking to a car, or any inanimate object for the matter, but he knew that the Bentley was far more sentient than the usual automobile; having had been owned by a supernatural being for years, it was bound to have picked up some of that demonic energy. Besides, the car would probably be the second being in the whole universe that knew his Crowley the most. If anyone knew the answer to that question, it would be it.

The answer came in the form of a new song:

_I'm an angel with a shotgun_  
_Fighting til' the wars won_  
_ I don't care if heaven won't take me back_  
_ I'll throw away my faith, babe, just to keep you safe_  
_ Don't you know you're everything I have?_

The angel jumped back from the player as if it had burned him, blushing so fervently that you could probably fry an egg on his cheeks. Were his feelings for the demon so obvious that the bloody car could read him?– O-oh, d-dear… are you… are you actually trying to tell **him** about **my** feelings? Oh, no, that won’t do… not like that… - Frantically pressing the power button, just like Crowley had done a few minutes earlier, Aziraphale risked a glance towards Crowley, trying to see if he was coming back already. Lucky for him, he wasn’t.

In fact, Crowley was still trying to reason with his car. - I love you, you know that. You probably come only second to Aziraphale to me, in terms of affection. I’ve had you for ninety years, you are the best car I could ever ask for. – he leaned his forehead against the lifted hood, closing his eyes. – So… please, just stop. You were there for the “You go too fast for me” fiasco, weren’t you? **This **is going too fast, dumbass. You’re just going to scare him away from me. Again. - he sighed, suddenly feeling very tired as if all of his thousands of years alive were suddenly weighing down on him. - You don’t know how long I waited for him to be so comfortable with me, like this. Without being afraid of Heaven smiting him down for just breathing the same air as me. Please. I’m **begging** you. Don’t fuck this up for me.

With that, he finally closed the hood, after miracling away the problem he had created himself as an excuse to have a one on one with his car, and went back to the driver’s seat. The traffic was so slow that the cars had barely moved during his little scheme, but of course, the asshole behind him still honked at him. He flipped them off and re-entered the car.

As soon as he got back in it, he noticed his angel was flushed, looking down at his lap and fumbling with his fingers, clearly uncomfortable. At least the CD player had gone silent.

-Angel? What’s wrong? – the demon’s (very strong) protective instincts over his angel kicked off. He grabbed him by the shoulders, worried. He turned his gaze, viciously, at the car. - What have you **done **to him?

The Bentley, for some reason, thought it was the perfect time to start playing some music again7:

_Oh, you're the best friend that I ever had_  
_I've been with you such a long time_  
_ You're my sunshine and I want you to know_  
_ That my feelings are true_  
_ I really love you_  
_ Oh, you're my best friend_

_-_Oh, that’s **it**! Enough!– the demon snapped, letting go of the angel’s shoulders to point viciously at the CD player, fuming – You’ve asked for this! This is going to hurt you so much more than it’s going to hurt me.

He snapped his fingers. Suddenly, the CD player vanished from existence (well, technically, vanished from the car only; Crowley made sure to make it pop up back on his flat, intact. It was rare to find new CD players as good as his), leaving a silence in the car so loud that you could hear the drop of a pin.

\- Well, Aziraphale, you’re shit at choosing topics for conversation, I’m afraid. – the demon chuckled, trying to break the uncomfortable silence – I’m sorry about… all this. I still owe you a proper introduction to Queen, so, perhaps you could… drop by my house… sometime soon…? – he offered, rubbing his nape out of nervousness - So I could… you know… show you…? _Satan, I am so lame. Original Tempter my ass._, he thought, bitterly.

\- You don’t have to apologize, my dear. - the angel replied, with a heavy exhale, still getting a hold of himself. He looked at the demon, who was looking away, and smiled affectionately – But I would very much like to take you on your offer, thank you very much.

Crowley looked back at Aziraphale, catching his fond gaze and giving him one of his own, behind his sunglasses, but he knew that the angel could see right through them. Both of their hands twitched, eager to hold one another. They managed to get lost in each other’s eyes for only about five seconds before shying away, both at once, with lovestruck smiles on their lips.

If cars could sigh, the Bentley would be sighing like a furnace. Damn oblivious idiots.

-So… what about now, Aziraphale? Any other conversation topics you’d like to try your hand at, or will you finally let me miracle my charger? – the demon teased, suddenly in a very good mood. He had invited Aziraphale to another date later (at least, that’s what he liked to delude himself into thinking: that those meetups with the angel were actually dates and that he was in an excruciatingly long process of courting Aziraphale the old-fashioned way. Following that logic, by the next millennia maybe he would be able to put an arma around him when they were sitting together, if he were lucky), the music problem was dealt with and he could already see the beginnings of the accident on the road, which meant that soon the traffic would get considerably less slow. Life was looking good for the demon.

\- Hum… - the angel frowned, trying to think of something. Crowley thought he looked cute. - Ah, I have an idea! Something I have always read on books that feature car trips.

\- What is it?

\- Road trip games! – the principality announced, cheerfully. – Oh, I’ve always wanted to play I Spy!

Leave it to Aziraphale to chose the lamest road trip game possible, in the demon’s personal opinion. Still, what didn’t Aziraphale ask of him smiling, that he wouldn’t do crying? - Sure, whatever you want, angel.

The positively blinding smile that he got in response made it worth it, though.

-Okay, you go first, dear boy. – prompted the angel, excited.

\- Sure… I spy, with my little eye, something beginning with… A. – announced Crowley, without an ounce of excitement in his body.

\- Oh, let me see… - he looked around, trying to pinpoint anything that might start with said letter. - Is it… “airplane”?

\- Nope.

\- Is it… “accelerator”?

-Nope.

\- Is it… “accident”?

\- Nope.

\- Is it… - and then, suddenly, he realized he was being played. - It is “angel”, isn’t it? – he asked, disappointed but not surprised.

\- Yep. – admitted Crowley, smugly, without averting his gaze from the road.

\- Well, I suppose that’s… technically fair. – conceded the angel, unsatisfied but willing to let it slide. – My turn. Hum… I spy with my little eye, something beginning with C!

\- It isn’t “Crowley,” is it?

\- No! – Aziraphale exclaimed, outraged.

\- Shoot. Way to make things actually challenging. – the demon sighed, regretting a few of his life choices that led him to this moment - Is it… “car”?

-No.

-Is it… “construction”?

\- Yes, it is! Wow, dear, you are really good at this game. – praised cheerfully the angel, purposely ignoring the demon’s unenthusiastic demeanor. – Your turn, dear.

Another sigh. – I spy with my little eye something beginning with A.

\- Again? It isn’t “angel” once more, is it?

\- Nope, not gonna make it easy for you this time.

\- Let’s see… is it, “automobile”?

\- We are in 2019, Aziraphale, not 1890. No.

\- “Asphalt”?

\- Nope.

\- I’m afraid I’m stuck, my dear. You have beaten me.

\- It’s “Aziraphale”. – confessed the demon, grinning toothly. He loved to mess with his angel. It earned him a shove on his shoulder, though.

\- Why are you like this? – inquired the angel, annoyed at his companion for purposely ruining the game by playing it “wrong”.

\- Because I Spy sucks! – snapped back the demon, gesticulating widely - It’s probably the lamest road trip game ever. You’re probably the only person who actually finds it entertaining.

\- What do you propose we do instead, then? – questioned Aziraphale, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms, still slightly irritated but now seeing his point.

\- Well, we can play something like you want to, but let’s play something interesting. – Crowley flashed a smirk, that kind of smirk you only ever smile when you are about to do something incredibly reckless, that you will probably regret in the foreseeable future, just for the hell of it - Let’s play Fuck, Marry, Kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs featured, in order:  
\- Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, by Queen  
\- Take my Breath Away, by Queen  
\- One Year of Love, by Queen  
\- Pale Blue Eyes, by The Velvet Underground  
\- Angel With a Shotgun, by The Cab  
\- You're my Best Friend, by Queen
> 
> [1]The truth is, in fact, that his heart was beating so fast that, if it were a car, it would probably break any speed limit law in the world. He wondered how Aziraphale could not hear how loud it was, ringing in his ears. It was a simple invitation at first glance, nothing much different from the other outings they’ve had in the last six thousand years. But it was. Just being reminded of that night back in 1967 made his heart constrict painfully, his mouth dry up and the breath he didn’t even need to take to be stuck on his throat. Damn human bodies.
> 
> [2]The password was 4004. Obviously a random number and not the year in which he met a certain angel who changed his life forever. Nuh-huh.
> 
> [3] It didn’t really matter which one was it, really. All those CDs were at least a month old and so, had already been transformed into The Best of Queen albums.
> 
> [4] Aziraphale hadn’t been expecting anything per se, but he definitely wasn’t expecting that. He wasn’t expecting a song to spell out his feelings so perfectly, especially in the presence of said object of those feelings.
> 
> [5] True to his snake nature, Crowley tended to hiss and accentuate his “s” whenever he forgot himself, mostly due to his emotions running wildly. And boy, were his emotions a mess at that moment.
> 
> [6] Oh, and it knew. How many nights had it watched as its owner, sometimes sounding lovesick, sometimes sounding bitter and angry, sometimes sounding completely heartbroken, rant about Aziraphale, to no one in particular. All it could do to in response was to provide him with some music that it thought appropriate to the mood, and hope that one day the angel would spare the demon from all this unrequited love business. It was really getting old.
> 
> [7] In the Bentley’s defense, he had been really trying to tone it down this time, going for a platonic mood. Crowley had just said called him and Aziraphale best friends, after all. What better way to solidify such platonic feelings than with a song called literally “You’re my Best Friend”?
> 
> Thank you for reading <3.


	2. Fuck, Marry, Kill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley try their hand at Fuck, Marry, Kill. Things get a little deeper than intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka the one with a giant backstory digression in the middle of it.
> 
> i'm not really totally happy with how this chapter turned out, but i guess it's okay.
> 
> also, a tidbit of the book that isn't in the series (but everyone in the fandom knows about) is that “angels are sexless beings unless they really want to make an effort". everyone interprets it in their own way. i ended up making the mechanics of it kind of similar to demisexuality, and i actually liked that idea, so yeah. that's that.
> 
> this chapter doesn't move the plot as much, it serves more as a setup/kickstarter for the events of the next chapters. the next chapter, though...oh boy.  


\- Fu - Have sex, Marry, Kill? – Aziraphale inquired, tilting his head a little to the side. – I’m afraid I’m not familiar with this one, dear.

You might be tempted to ask yourself why in the world would someone suggest to play Fuck, Marry, Kill with their crush. It was like begging to be scorched by jealousy from the inside out. However, in this particular stance, you have to consider that the subject in question is no one else than Anthony J. Crowley, and so, there are three possible reasons why he would ever do that:

The first and most superficial one, the one he would most probably tell you if you were to ask him, would be that he liked to mess with Aziraphale. Liked to see him squirm. That’s what being friends was all about, some friendly teasing and messing with each other. And he knew that a game like Fuck, Marry, Kill was bound to get the angel to squirm and get all bothered. It was always fun to watch that.

A second reason, one he would only tell you if you pressed harder, could be that all those years of Hell’s torture[1]had finally turned him into a masochist. An emotional masochist, to be more precise. A sucker for punishment. He couldn’t stop himself from giving his heart to the angel, time after time, only to have it be stomped on and rejected, as he knew from the start that it would.

The third, and probably the truest reason, the one he would never ever admit to you, was that he was a fucking coward. At least when it came Aziraphale. Sure, he could out bluff practically any demon in Hell with the bravado of a cowboy bursting through saloon doors in an old western movie, but he could not even begin to think about confessing his romantic feelings to the angel without feeling any words he could ever say dying bitterly on his throat. He just couldn’t do it. Taking a dip in an ocean of Holy Water would be easier for him. At least it would be a quick death, instead of the despairing torture of losing Aziraphale’s friendship over some stupid words and being without him for the rest of eternity.

However, even if he couldn’t talk about it directly, there were always indirect ways to get your message across. Actions, for once. Actions were easier. If everything went down like a lead balloon, you could always counterargument that it hadn’t been your intent to imply that; you had a margin of error to talk your way out, which was Crowley’s specialty. You could always pin the blame on the other person’s interpretation. He had bared his heart to Aziraphale though actions over and over and over throughout the years. It didn’t seem to have worked. Either the angel was painfully oblivious or he was intentionally choosing to ignore his advances. He truly hoped it was the former.

So, if only actions weren’t enough, maybe he could be a little more direct. Not too much, as to throw his plausible deniability out the window. Not _going_ _too fast_. Just enough to subtly insinuate something, to put himself as an option. The smallest, subtlest flirting, getting close enough to the Sun to get warm, but not enough to get his wings burned. The plan was to play a bit of innocent Fuck, Marry, Kill (or at least, as innocent as that game can ever possibly be played) to try to set up some kind of rapport until he felt like popping the Big One. (Probably against one or two people that he knows Aziaphale dislikes, so he could actually have a chance of being either kissed or married. He’d take either one, no preferences) Or, at least, he would try to have the courage to do it. He’s a coward, remember?

And, in the worst-case scenario… well, he could always pass it up as a joke, swallowing his heartbreak as he always does. Nothing out of the ordinary.

\- Please, for the love of _Someone_, don’t ever say “Have sex, Marry, Kill” again, angel. – pleaded the demon, not nearly as vexed by the censored version as much as he was letting on, but not going to let this one slide - Hearing it one time was cringy enough for a lifetime. Just say “fuck”, for Earth’s sake[2]

Aziraphale glared at him, with a not impressed stare. Crowley stared back at him, with a daring look on his eyes, as if saying “Gonna chicken out?”. Eventually, the angel relented, with a sigh.- …Fine. I’m sorry, dear, but I am not acquainted with…Fuck, Marry, Kill.

\- It’s a simple game. – explained the demon, grinning widely for having tempted the angel into swearing - I’ll say three names to you, of people we know, and you have to say which one of the three you would rather fuck, which one you’d rather marry, and which one you would rather kill. Then it’s your turn to give me three names. We’ll play it until one of us gets bored or annoyed by it. Sound good?

Aziraphale looked a bit unhinged, but not entirely put off by the idea - Well, we can play it, no problem, my dear, but… it feels weird. For us, I mean. Like, have you ever even… - he whispered his next words as if he didn’t actually want the demon to hear them - made the Effort?

A tense, pregnant pause befell between them. Eventually, Crowley spoke, averting his gaze towards the window by his side.

\- …Yes. I have.

\- Oh. Why?

\- Because of…someone.

_I knew it._, thought the angel, sadly. He visibly deflated at the answer, looking down at his lap with a saddened gaze. The demon didn’t notice, being too busy looking at the car beside him.

-What about you? – he asked, not really wanting to know the answer, but feeling like he should ask.

\- Me too. Because of…someone as well.

_I knew it_., thought the demon, angrily. He gripped the steering wheel harder, with a force enough to turn his knuckles white. The angel didn’t notice, being too busy playing with the ring on his pinky finger.

A bit of context might be necessary at this point.

As it is common knowledge, angels don’t have a sexuality, or anything related to it, by themselves; that’s a purely human thing. If they really want to, however, they can make an Effort (with a capital E, this one deserves it) and, after that, be able to experience some sort of sexuality, mostly in the same way as humans do. Demons, since they come from the same original stock as angels, also follow that same rule. Therefore, Aziraphale and Crowley were both originally, unable to actually have sex, much less have the desire for it. And, at first, neither had ever actually thought they would make the Effort someday.

But they did.

Crowley was the first one to do it. It had been in Rome, 48 AC. He had been on that blasted place for a quick temptation for a grand total of one (1) day and he already wanted to leave. Not go home, since didn’t actually have a place he would call that yet, but simply go away. He was tired. Everyone was so loud. He hated his job. Everything sucked.

Well, not **everything**.

There was the angel. Aziraphale. His only constant companion for the last four thousand years on Earth, the only other being on the planet he actually could relate to. His Adversary, his sworn, mortal enemy, and secretly the object of almost all of his affections.

Yes, the demon had a crush on him. Hard. Had for a while now.

And he knew that it would be a nice day in Hell before an angel would ever fall in love with a demon.

But, oh well, he would go out with him to eat some oysters, and it would be enough.

Probably.

But then, after they had parted ways (something Crowley hadn’t delayed for four whole hours by bringing up random subjects for them to talk about, of course not), he realized that it wasn’t enough. All of the joy had been sucked out of his life as soon as the Principality had walked away from him, and now he was in an even shittier mood than before. Something analogous to abstinence after feeling the effects of a drug wearing off.

And then, he had an idea.

Rome was a fairly liberal place, at the time. In the almost 48 hours he had been in the city, he had already witnessed two pairs of humans engaging in intercourse, in public. Hell, he had been there, back in the day, when Adam and Eve made their lovely little babies[3], even before the Temptation. He was aware of sex, of course. He just had never paid much attention to it. Had dismissed it as one of the humans’ quirky activities, mainly intended towards reproduction, but which could actually give pleasure to both participants. Enough pleasure for it to be a substantial temptation material.

Demons didn’t naturally have an inclination towards sex, but hey, lust was a cardinal sin, wasn’t it? Surely he, as a demon, could indulge on it if he wanted to. It couldn’t actually make his situation worse, could it? And so, he made the Effort.

At first, it didn’t feel like much. Sure, it felt good (?), he guessed, physically speaking, but not good enough to merit all of the things that humans had done in name of it, and because of it. To be completely honest, it felt really crappy and awkward. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being left out of some inside joke.

But then, he thought, maybe it was because he was doing it alone, on his own, at a crappy inn room in the middle of a shitty town. As far as he knew, although you could do it by yourself, this sort of thing was actually supposed to be done with someone else.

Of course, the only person he would ever want to do this with would be Aziraphale, and… Oh.

**Oh.**

He thought harder about Aziraphale, about his beautiful smile and his bright blue eyes and oh, that did the trick.

Needless to say, he **did** find out what the buzz was all about.

He left Rome a week later, on a much better mood than when he had arrived, with a few more demonic miracles on his tab, a whole new lot of experiences under his belt (figuratively and literally) and even more in too deep in regards to his feelings for the angel.

He wanted Aziraphale to fuck him. He wanted to fuck Aziraphale. And everything in between.

Basically, he just wanted Aziraphale, in any way he could have.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale had been a late bloomer, in comparison. It had taken him almost two thousand years more than his counterpart to make the Effort. It happened in 1941, London. After finally realizing his romantic feelings for a certain demon. Crowley. His only constant companion for the last six thousand years on Earth, the only other being on the planet he actually could relate to. His Adversary, sworn mortal enemy and the best friend he could ever have.

And boy, how deep those feelings were.

He had taken a long time to come to terms with it, but when he did, it wasn’t a vaguely saunter downwards. It as a free fall, with no parachutes. Forget falling from Heaven, he fell in love as hard as anyone could ever fall.

And as much as it terrified him (_Oh no, oh no, oh no, I am completely, utterly doomed, oh dear, I **can’t** be in love with him, I’m going to end up killing us both_), it also excited him to no end. He had always wanted to fall in love. For so long he had read novels about romance, and he had always found them very entertaining, of course, but he could never actually relate to the characters.

Well, now he could. If those characters felt even one-third of what he was feeling, that is.

He spent weeks after his romantic epiphany re-reading his favorite novels, partly in an effort to confirm if his feelings were in fact love (they were), partly because he wanted to actually feel the stories for once. And he did. It felt like reading them for the first time. He almost cried many times, projecting his own recently awakened feelings onto the characters. Crowley was the Mr. Darcy to his Elizabeth, the Romeo to his Juliet, the Annabel Lee to his Poe, and so, so much more. God, he loved him.

After re-reading five piles of his most treasured books, a metaphorical lightbulb lighted up over his head.

_What if… I mean, would it even work? I can’t actually do it **with** him, but…would just thinking about him suffice? Human literature suggests that yes, but I am not human… oh dear. I wish I could talk to him about it. He’s the only one who could possibly understand me. Well, technically I could talk to Gabriel or Michael or Uriel about it, make it vague enough, but… no. Just no. Well, here goes nothing._

All he wanted was an outlet for the energy that built up inside him every time the merely spared a thought for his beloved. Which happened almost all the time, recently. According to his research (a,k.a., reading erotic novels), that was a way to do it, in the absence of said loved one.

He had never actually given much thought to sex before. He, as an angel, was naturally immune to sexual feelings, which made his view of the sexual act as strictly biological as possible. In his mind, sex was a gift given by God to humanity, as a way to perpetuate the species and bring two people who loved each other as close as they could be.

If he actually made the Effort, though, this would change. He would have a human-biased view of the subject, and would actually be subjected to the vulnerabilities that come with it.

But he would also be able to love him in a new way, in a human way. It would open a whole new world of possibilities for him. And that would be worth it.

If there was anyone, ever, worth making the Effort for, it would be his dearest demon.

And so he did.

And it indeed had been worth it.

After exhausting all of the ideas he had read (that took a while), he was left fulfilled, but not entirely satisfied. He was missing the real thing.

He wanted Crowley to make love to him. He wanted to make love to Crowley. And everything in between.

Basically, he just wanted Crowley, in any way he could have.

So, just to recap: both of the supernatural beings in question had made their respective Efforts years before, because of their feelings for one another. Got that?

Good, because neither of them have actually got that.

Assumptions are a funny little thing; they are like seeds, being planted into your mind, and after some time, without any evidence of the contrary, they grow up to become beliefs, sometimes very strong and unwavering creeds. For some ineffable reason, both the angel and the demon had assumed, throughout the years, that their counterpart had once fallen in love with one specific human, and made their Effort because of them. And, since communication was one hell/one heaven of an issue between them, none of them ever said a word about it, and consequently never received the contrary evidence that would prevent their assumptions from growing into beliefs.

For Crowley, that specific human was Oscar Wilde. After the incident he recalled on his mind as the Holy Water Fight, back in 1862, the demon had been so angry, sad and heartbroken (_Fraternizing. Fucking **fraternizing**. Go fuck yourself, Aziraphale_) that he took a depression nap that actually lasted almost seventy years. It hadn’t been his intention to sleep for so long, but the more he slept, the less he wanted to come back to reality. His dreams were much nicer. In them, his angel actually cared about him.

Anyways, after he woke up in 1929, bought the Bentley, spent a few years doing enough demonic work to compensate his inactivity on his sabbatic years, and saved Aziraphale from discorporation in 1941, the two of them had made up. The “fraternizing” issue still stung a little, but he could never stay angry at his angel for long. After dropping his best friend back on his bookshop (it looked a lot different from the last time he had seen it; more stacked with books, for starters), Aziraphale had invited him to come inside and have a drink with him, like they always did. And, like he always did, Crowley accepted.

If he knew that the invitation was actually a trap, he really wouldn’t have accepted it.

-Oh, you should have met Oscar… It’s a shame he died so young, poor dear. I tried to heal him, but when I found out about his sickness, it was already too late. Oh, Oscar was so brilliant, have you seen the things he wrote? Personally, _The Portrait of Dorian Gray_ is my favorite, he even gave to me a signed first edition, but actually, all of the things that Oscar wrote were absolutely marvelous.

What. The. Fuck.

_So it’s like that, huh? I can’t take a bloody nap without you throwing yourself at the first human you find. Good to know you would sooner fall in love with a fucking human, who would leave you in 80 years, tops, before ever thinking about me like that. I bet you don’t think about what you had him as merely “fraternizing”. _

Oscar this, Oscar that… If he heard the name “Oscar” one more bloody time, he would be forced to kill every single person with that name on all of Creation, just so it could be exterminated from existence.

Yes, he was jealous. Fuck off. He had never heard his angel talk about any other human with such fondness, such… love. It made him sick. Aziraphale had been in love with him, he could see it, clear as day. Probably made the Effort for him too. And it hurt.

(Aziraphale hadn’t, in fact, been in love with Oscar Wilde. Nor had they had anything of the sort. The poor lad had already enough problems in his love life, no need to complicate it even further. The writer had just been his friend, a dear one indeed, but only that. The angel had been lonely, since his best friend had abandoned him for years after asking for a suicide pill, so he felt the need to make a new friend. Not that it would ever compare to what he had with his dearest demon, but it had been nice.)

As for Aziraphale, that specific human was Freddie Mercury. Now, he wasn’t jealous that Crowley was making other friends. Of course not. He wanted him to be happy, to have a wide social support network, especially since he knew that he didn’t have any true friends back in Hell. And Crowley was such a lovely person, so easy to love (at least in the eyes of the angel, whose opinion is completely biased, mind you), it was really strange, that he didn’t have many more friends than he had.

But that one had been different.

During the years between when the demon had met the musician, up to his death, Aziraphale had barely seen his best friend. Crowley was always busy hanging out with the human. Going to his shows, going out with him instead, or just spending some time at his residence. Whenever the angel invited him to have a meal at the Ritz or to grab a drink with him at the bookshop, he was always busy, claiming he already had plans with “Freddie” (God, he was starting to hate that name. Jealousy was one of the Seven Deadly Sins, and he felt bad for feeling it, but how couldn’t he?). He could see, could feel there was something more there. Maybe even enough to make the Effort for.

But the truth is, he got it; truly got it.

He knew very well that, even if Crowley did feel something else for him (he had a strong suspicion that there was at least a spark there, but he couldn’t be completely sure it wasn’t just his bias talking; that he wasn’t seeing it just because he wanted it to exist), they couldn’t be together. Not while Heaven and Hell were breathing down their necks.

The fact that they were friends was enough to damn both of them in the eyes of their Head Offices, imagine what would happen if they were romantically involved? He knew that he would probably Fall, and yes, it would be terrible, but he could live with that. But Crowley? They would **kill** Crowley, and Aziraphale would Fall a thousand times before he’d let him die.

Didn’t stop his heartbreak, though. It hurt.

_If I can’t be with him, at least he deserves someone he can be with. He deserves to have someone who can actually love him, without putting him in danger. I’m happy for him, truly. I just… wish I could be the one to do it._

(Obviously, Crowley had never been in love with Freddie Mercury. As if there was any space on his heart to fall in love with anyone else besides Aziraphale. But Freddie was a real nice guy, his songs were awesome, and it was nice to have someone you could just vent about your heartbreak to. At least his misery inspired him to write some of his most romantic songs. Don’t ever let Aziraphale know that, though)

Long story short: They were both absolute dumbasses and in love with each other. Nothing new.

-But even if I have made it, it just feels… wrong to even think about doing it with some random people. With anyone else, basically. – _It would feel like I’m betraying you, somehow., _he thought, still not looking at the demon. The air around them grew even tenser - I don’t know, I might be being silly.

The worst part is that Crowley understands the feeling. It’s the same for him.

Making an effort, for supernatural beings, was a _very_ intimate thing. The big majority of them don’t actually ever do it. Mainly because it isn’t like normal human sexuality. Not only because it has to be intentional, but it has an intrinsical relationship with feelings. Especially for angels, who are beings of love. Demons, being theoretically beings of not-love[4], actually could get away with a little more, especially the demons of Lust, but it is usually not too satisfying as it would be if it were coming from a place of affection for someone. So, naturally, the idea of having sex with random people can be actually pretty repugnant to those beings.

\- No, I get it. I wouldn’t ever want to have sex with anyone else either. - he sighed, running a hand through his face, still refusing to turn his gaze at the angel by his side. _Satan, I’m so fucking stupid. Why do I even open my mouth, like, ever, _he thought, bitterly. - Just forget it, it was a stupid fucking idea.

\- No! – Aziraphale exclaimed, finally lifting his gaze from his lap and looking at his counterpart. Crowley, startled by the sudden blurt, turned towards him as well. Their eyes met briefly, then immediately looked away again - I mean, you played my game, or at least pretended to, even if you hated it, to indulge me –that earned him a small chuckle from the demon - so it’s only fair that I at least try yours.

\- Well, some people play it as “Kiss, Marry, Kill.”. Would that make you less uncomfortable? – suggested the demon, scratching his nape and trying to salvage the awkward mood that settled between them. Satan, he was a fucking mess. - I don’t want you to do anything you would feel uncomfortable with, though. You don’t owe me anything, angel.

\- Hum, I guess it would be okay. – pondered the angel, with a finger up his lips. – You and I both know that kisses weren’t always an expression of sexuality, throughout human history.

\- Yeah. – He conceded. _Wanna kiss you **very** sexually though, _he thought_, _bitterly_. _However, he was relieved that the bad atmosphere between them seemed to be dissipating._ – _So, shall we start then? Want me to go first, so I can show you how to do it?

\- No, no, no, I think I got it. Let’s see. – he assured, with a pleasant little smile - Kiss, Marry, Kill: Gabriel, Beelzebub and… - he frowned, trying to think of anyone else to complete three people. - Sergeant Shadwell.

Crowley raised his eyebrows, incredulous. - Wow, you actually managed to make the worst possible triad for this game. Congratulations. – he clapped his hands, ironically – Never, ever, when I played this game, had I wanted to kill all three of the people involved.

\- Oh. I’m sorry, dear, I just said the first three names that popped up in my head. I can try again if you’d like.

-No, no, I got it. Always up for a challenge. – the demon tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, pondering his answer - Well, **obviously** I’d kill fucking Gabriel. If I could kill him in real life he would be dead for long by now. Bastard always treated you like shit, as if you didn’t matter. Fuck him. – if hearing those words, dripping with protective instinct, made Aziraphale feel warm inside, well, no one needed to know - I guess I’d marry Beelzebub, it might give me some protection. Few demons would dare to try to hurt me if was married to them. And I guess I’d… - he sighed - I’d kiss Shadwell. But only his younger version. He was at least passable in 1967. And less of an asshole. Your turn. – he announced, with a smirk - I won’t be a dick to you, don’t worry. Kiss, Marry, Kill: Beelzebub, Shakespeare and…Book Girl, I guess.

-Oh, let me see…Well, clearly I would kill Beelzebub. They tried to kill you and you always complained about them to me so I assume they were always super mean to you, so I don’t like them. – the angel declared that with a little pout, which made the demon’s heart melt, just a little - I guess I would marry Shakespeare, I was always fond of the fellow and his plays, maybe I could help inspire him? And well, I guess I could kiss Anathema on her forehead, a blessing kiss.

The demon frowned at the last bit. –Uh, since when is that allowed? I mean, forehead kisses and stuff?

\- Since now. – Aziraphale stated, with a soft smile that had a certain finality to it, as if it wouldn’t leave any room for argument. His inner bastardness was showing. Crowley shrugged, accepting it far too easily. - Your turn, dear. Kiss, Marry, Kill: Anathema, Madam Tracy, Eve.

The last name actually shocked Crowley, making his raise his eyebrows in surprise. - Eve? As in, My-First-Temptation-Eve?

\- Yes.

\- Well, I always liked her, you know? – he admitted, with a fond look on his eyes, which unfortunately went unnoticed by the angel, because of the sunglasses he was wearing. It was impossible to miss the softness in his voice, though. - She was a good girl, she didn’t deserve what I did to her. I mean, not exactly what **I **did to her; I don’t regret it, because I really don’t think that what I did was wrong, and if I hadn’t done that we wouldn’t be here now, but I feel bad for what happened to her because of it. So I guess I’d marry her, to try to make it up to her for the rest of her life. And I guess I owe to Madam Tracy for giving you a ride, so I can’t kill her. I’d give her a thank you kiss on the cheek, I guess. So, sorry Book Girl, you have to die. - he shrugged his shoulders. - Ok. Your turn. Kiss, Marry, Kill: Agnes Nutter, King Arthur, Hastur.

\- Kill Hastur. He was a jerk on your trial and actually tried to kill you more than once. I guess I’d like to give Agnes Nutter a thank you kiss for saving both you and me, as well for helping to prevent the Armageddon. So I guess I’d marry King Arthur. He was a good king. Maybe I could have helped him, even more, to rule over Wessex! - the angel announced, excitedly clapping his hands - That would have been nice. Your turn: Kiss, Marry, Kill: Michael, Hastur, and… ah, what about the Da Vinci fellow? I know you were close to him, back in the day.

\- Kill the wanker who was in cahoots with Hell all this time and actually gave them Holy Water so they could kill me, marry Leo ‘cause he was a really nice guy and gave me that sketch of the Mona Lisa I have back in my flat and.. -he made a gagging gesture, repelled by the idea. – kiss Hastur. But like, one of these poisonous kisses, that you put some poisoned lipstick or something and when you kiss the person you poison them, you know? And they die slowly and painfully? Serves that fucker right.

\- My dear, that’s cheating, you’re killing two of them. – pointed Aziraphale. 

-Don’t care. – he answered, with a dismissive flicker of hand. - Next: Kiss, Marry, Kill: Dagon…Michael and… hum, Uriel.

-Ouch. That’s a hard one. – answered the angel, frowning his eyebrows slightly - Dagon is the other one on your trial who was there to recount all of your misdeeds so they would have even more evidence to kill you, right? Kill her. But I don’t really know about the other ones. I don’t feel particularly keen on marrying or kissing either of them, actually. In fact, I have no particular interest in any other angel. They are all birds of a feather. – he shrugged his shoulders, offhandedly - So I guess you can flip a coin on that one.

\- So angels are a no-no for you now? – the demon asked, a little surprised, but really pleased - Demons too, from what I can see. You’ve killed every demon I’ve presented to you. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. I’m starting to get offended. – he joked, with just a tiny bit of truth behind it - Are you strictly human-attracted now, or am I missing something?

The angel rolled his eyes, exasperated. - What can I do if I find every demon that you present me with utterly unpleasant? And well, my dear, you also have killed every angel I presented to you. I believe the pot’s calling the kettle black.

\- Of course I’ll always kill the angels. It’s in my demon DNA to kill all of those white-winged bastards. - he flashed a mischievous, toothy grin. - That’s what Hell raised us to do, all those years. I am an angel killing machine.

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow at the boast, with an incredulous, yet mischievous smile on his lips. _You will** always **kill the angels, huh? **All** of them, my dear?_

Now, a trait that was usually overlooked in Aziraphale, overshadowed by his softness and kindness, was that he was a bastard. Not in the literal sense; he didn’t even have parents. And not completely, of course; Crowley had summarized it perfectly: “just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing”. He wasn’t a jerk, or cruel, but he was an asshole when he wanted to.

And right then, he really **wanted** to. Not only because of his bastardness, (although it was a big reason for it), but also because he wanted to actually get a reaction out of the demon. Playing these silly little games with hypothetical random people who didn’t actually matter was one thing (it was rather fun, he had to admit it), but going deeper, to actually propose a simulation with people who mattered, was another thing entirely. He wanted to put himself against the one he believed to have been Crowley’s old love, to see how he stood against him now.

Crowley had practically dug up his own grave with his last statements. Not his fault for following him up on it.

_-_Go on, angel. Give me names. – the demon requested, completely unaware of his impending fate.

_This will be fun_. -Very well, my dear: - he announced, with the smuggest smile on his lips. Crowley actually faltered at that, suddenly very afraid of what was to come from the angel’s lips. _Oh no_. - Kiss, Marry, Kill: Lucifer, Freddie Mercury and… me. _Are you going to kill the angel now as well, my dearest?_

It was a good thing that the traffic was starting to flow a little better, now that they were approaching the accident site, or the Bentley would certainly have hit the car in front of them, with the force that Crowley had kicked the accelerator in his surprise.

If asked to describe the expression on Crowley’s face after hearing the last three names, the most accurate way of putting in into words would be: “What the fuck??????????”. Maybe with more interrogation marks. Professional actors could only dream of such expressivity.

_Angel????_ – the demon asked himself, panicked, feeling completely out of the loop. He hadn’t seen this one coming. – _What the… Where the fucking Heaven did Freddie come from??? Is it because of the songs earlier, or…_

_WAIT. Is he… jealous_? _Aziraphale, are you actually…? Ngh. _

The thing was, this was exactly what he had wanted all along, what he had started this silly game in hopes of achieving. In fact, it was even better than what he had planned, since the initiative had come from the angel himself, which denoted that he had at least some interest in this matter as well.

However, Crowley had never actually believed he would get this far, so he never really prepared himself for something like this. It was a nice idea, in theory, but he thought the probability of it ever happening was so small, so derisive, that he didn’t even care to plan for it.

So, he was kind of at a loss here.

Aziraphale just looked back at him, with a patient smile, coaxing him to answer. _Well, fuck me gently with a chainsaw_, he thought, swallowing dry and feeling his cheeks catch on fire, suddenly very interested in the license plate of the car in front of them.

\- W-well, I-I doubt that I’d ever be able to, but, if I could I’d kill Satan on a heartbeat. – he started ranting, deliberately avoiding looking at Aziraphale’s direction. - I mean, really, Lucifer sucks. All he ever does is complain about stuff. Mostly about stuff that isn’t even that wrong, to begin with. And taking it out on random demons. Seriously, you should see-

\- What about the other ones, dear? – insisted the angel.

\- Erm. Ngh. I... I… - _Bless you, Aziraphale. I keep forgetting just how much of a bastard you are. _The demon swallowed dry_, _bracing himself to say his next words as if he were about to sign his own death certificate with them_ \- _I… I guess it would be… nice… to kiss… Freddie… - _Oh Satan, fucking end me now, I am actually begging you _\- Like… we could… kiss listening to his songs? And he could… sing to me? It would be nice, I guess…?

-So… you would marry me? – the angel inquired, suddenly breathless[5]and with an inconvenient layer of sweat on his palms.

_Of course I’d marry you, you stupid angel. I’d pledge myself to you for eternity and beyond, right here, right now, if you wanted to. I already have, in secret, but I would love to make it official. I would burn my feet off completely on consecrated ground if you wanted to marry at a church. I would give you the most amazing wedding band of all Creation, so you would think of me every time you looked at it._

\- I-I-I guess, I mean… - he stammered, so not ready to talk about this, still staring determinately at the other car. - We’re practically married already, right? I mean… all of this “our side” thing we’ve got going on, it’s practically a marriage, right? – _Fuck me, I’m so screwed. I’m a demon, for fuck’s sake, why can’t I do this? - _I mean, we’re kinda… stuck together… for the rest of our lives, so... there’s that. – he let out a nervous chuckle, trying really hard to not scratch his nape or rub his nose. 

\- Oh… yes, that makes sense, my dear. – the dismissal had stung a bit, he wouldn’t lie. But at least the discomfort with which Crowley had answered the question was telling enough for him. And the fact that, apparently, he and the human had never actually had anything beyond friendship. If they had, surely he wouldn’t have spoken of it so hypothetically and with such uncertainty, right?

It shouldn’t make him so relieved, but damn it, it did.

He realized he owed him a way out of the awkward situation he had put them in - So, what happened to your “killing all angels” policy?

The demon, clearly relived for being spared from the absolute mortification that had been the previous conversation topic, rolled his eyes and gave Aziraphale a look that spelled clearly “Really?”: - Angel, come on. You’re not daft. Besides, sometimes I almost forget that you’re an angel. I mean, you aren’t a cruel, conceited asshole, for starters, so it just feels wrong to lump you with them in my head.

\- You literally just called me “angel” two times, in the last two minutes.

\- That’s different. When I call you “angel”, it’s not the same as if I referred to, I don’t know, Adam, as “human”. It’s not a statement of your species. It’s more of a… - he trailed off, after actually realizing what he was saying.

\- More of a…? – coaxed Aziraphale, clearly knowing what he meant but wanting to hear it anyways.

\- It’s a bloody term of endearment, ok? - confessed the demon, with only the faintest blush on his cheeks - I wouldn’t call like, Michael or Uriel or fucking Gabriel “angel”. Only you. - he whispered his last statement as if hoping Aziraphale wouldn’t listen. He did, though.

\- Oh, dear. – the wave of love he felt for his counterpart at that actually made his knees weak. Thank Someone he was sitting, or he would have actually stumbled. He wanted to hold his hand, so badly, and he knew that the gesture would be accepted[6], but he feared that his dearest might spontaneously combust if he did so. - Just so you know, I keep forgetting you are a demon as well. You are so different from all of them as well. _So kind, so brilliant, so beautiful_.

\- I guess I’ll take that as a compliment, even if I can hear the unsaid “nice” in your words. – conceded the demon, rolling his eyes - You are on thin ice though, angel.

\- Oh dear, how dreadful – chuckled the angel, smiling softly. He would probably have been more threatened by a newborn. At least a small child could ever actually want to hurt him.

The blatant dismissal of his threatening potential irked him a bit, even if he didn’t necessarily need to keep up the appearances anymore. Old habits die hard. He was a demon, bless it! He wasn’t **nice**[7]. Aziraphale should fear him. Not that he would actually ever hurt a hair of his pretty head… but still! He felt like pouting, but it would just further diminish his (already really small) Intimidation Power™ on the eyes of the angel, so he refrained himself.

His demonic instincts were begging for him to get some payback, though. Besides, he hadn’t actually done what he intended to do with this game. _Two can play this game, Aziraphale._

\- What about you?

\- Huh?

\- Kiss, Marry, Kill: Gabriel, Oscar Wilde, me. - he prompted, with a confidence he would never have dreamed he would have at this moment. - Turnabout’s fair game, angel.

Aziraphale blinked in quick succession at him, genuinely confused as to where the Hell had Oscar Wilde come from. He felt a rush of heat rising up to his cheeks, and a nice warmth settling on his chest. _My dearest, are you… jealous? Of dear old Oscar_? _Oh, Crowley…_

Well, at least one of the choices was obvious.

-Well, I’d kill Gabriel, of course. He is the least favorite of the three to me. And he said sushi was gross, so screw him. – that earned him an earnest laugh from his companion, which made him smile fondly. He loved Crowley’s heartfelt laugh, it was such a shame he didn’t get to hear it as often as he wished. 

Now, he had two options here, as far as he could tell[8]. He could use the same excuse that Crowley had used. He could say he’d marry him as well and dismiss the whole thing as a metaphor for their side. But if he did that, if he danced to the demon’s rhythm, they would never move past what they had right now. Crowley was clearly dancing around the issue, on an agonizingly slow pace, ignoring the elephant in their room as much as he could, too scared to look directly at it.

And it was fair. He had done all of the advancements he could ever possibly do, over the span of the last six thousand years or so. And he had been rejected every time. Aziraphale had only rejected him to keep him safe, because he had been scared for both of them, but it didn’t change the fact that he had shut him down every single time the demon had tried to move things forward.

No wonder he was so guarded, so reluctant to even approach this thing between them. Once burned, twice shy, that’s what they say. And he had been burned a lot of times, already. He had said horrible things to him – _we’re not friends, it’s over, fraternizing, I don’t even like you_ \- that must have left a stinging scorch mark on his soul. Blatant lies, of course, but he could only hope that Crowley knew he didn’t mean any of it. 

But now, the only thing that had ever kept him at bay, out of fear, was gone, and he was more than ready. Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to catch up to him and make the final step. And he wouldn’t be able to do it if he stuck to Crowley’s current tempo.

Their roles had been reversed. He was the one who had to go faster now.

Hah, wasn’t that ironic. He had to suppress a bitter laugh.

\- I would marry Oscar, I guess. It would be good to keep him from that dreadful lover of his, who caused him so much harm. Could have helped him with his illness much sooner as well, so he might have lived much longer. – he let out a breathy sigh, steeling his nerves as best as he could. Good Lord, he was nervous - And, I-I-I’d kiss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] It is a known fact that Hell does, in fact, torture their demons, for fun. Especially new demons. After all, you have to turn a former being of purity and love into an evil, sadistic being. Just Falling and losing their Grace isn’t enough to make the transformation for most demons, and so, a little bit of torture is almost always needed. 
> 
> [2] It didn’t feel right to say “For Hell’s sake” anymore since he became a _persona non grata_ in Hell, so he was trying new things out. For “Earth’s sake” actually sat really nice with him. Might have to write it down later.
> 
> [3] Well, at least one of the babies had been lovely. Abel had always been a dear, but Crowley had never really liked Cain. Still, he had played with both of them a lot when they were still little kids; it had been the beginning of his soft spot for children.
> 
> [4] They weren’t, actually. That is all propaganda, from both sides. Demons were just as capable of love as angels were (See: a certain angel who did not as much Fall as sauntered vaguely downwards). The only differences were that they weren’t able to emit their love, like humans and angels could (a little side effect of having your Grace ripped apart from you), which conveniently helped to maintain the propaganda for all these millennia, and also allowed Crowley to get his feelings under Aziraphale’s radar for so long. 
> 
> [5] Which was funny, since he didn’t actually need to breathe. Neither of them needed. However, they were vulnerable to psychosomatic reactions to emotions, breathing issues included.
> 
> [6] He had done it already before, after all. Back on the bus ride from Tadfield to London, on the night of the Armaggedidn’t, he had sat beside him on a bus for the first time ever, and boldly took his hand on his, his confidence being fueled in equal parts by the despair of thinking they would be dead by tomorrow, as well as by a feeling of weariness, of being fed up with hiding his feelings. The demon had allowed his hand to be held, but they never actually spoke about it afterwards.
> 
> [7] He really, really was, though. At the very least, in regards to Aziraphale, children and his Bentley.
> 
> [8] He felt as if he was in one of those “Choose your own adventure” books. He rather liked to read them, as they were such a marvelous expression of Free Will, something only the humans could have possibly come up with. He just hoped he would make the right choice here, the one that would lead him to the best ending.
> 
> Thank you for reading <3.


	3. Would you Rather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some kisses actually ARE exchanged, and even more miscommunication arises from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter lenght consistency? don't know her
> 
> asdbehfbelh seriously, this chapter was NOT supposed to be this big, i'm sorry  
but i don't think that any of the next chapters will be this big as well, this one is the most plot-heavy one, there was a lot of things I needed to get across on this chapter
> 
> the only book reference on this chapter is that az likes tchaikovsky and crowley has a tchaikovsky cd on his bentley.
> 
> also, i'd like to thank everyone who gave kudos and commented <3 i really appreciate the support, and I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations <3

The demon stared back at the angel, wordlessly, for what felt like another six thousand years but was actually only the span of ten seconds. Eventually, his brain seemed to finish rebooting itself after being forcibly shut down due to the massive shock engendered by Aziraphale’s last sentence, and he replied, still in a daze and not really sure that he hadn’t just accidentally hit the car and was hallucinating this: -Y-Y-You would?

_Of course I would, you idiotic demon. It’s practically a crime, a sin, that I haven’t already. I can only very much hope that I can begin to make up for our lost time, as soon as possible._

The driver behind them honked, annoyed at the car in front of them for not moving along since there was clearly space in front of it; the traffic light was green and everything. However, neither of our supernatural beings actually listened to the honk, being too immersed in their own thoughts and feelings to have any perception of the world outside of the car; too lost in each other’s eyes, whose gazes had found their way to one another and now refused to part again.

If the Armaggedon were to restart at that very moment, both of them would probably be decimated by the actual end of the world before even acknowledging it. Crowley hadn’t stopped time once more, but he might as well have, as far as both of them were concerned.

The Bentley, fully aware that its driver would not be moving the car on his own volition for a long time, started driving itself. Neither of them noticed it as well.

Aziraphale played with his thumbs, anxiously, but didn’t dare to look away from the stare down they were engaged in. He couldn’t physically see his counterpart’s eyes since they were obscured by that blasted pair of sunglasses1 in front of them, but he knew, without a doubt, that the demon’s eyes were also locked on to his gaze as if glued to it by the strongest adhesive in the world.

Crowley made a choking sound, as a tremor shook through his entire body. He exhaled heavily, trying to keep the trainwreck of emotions he was feeling under control. However, he also didn’t dare to turn away from the angel’s gaze, afraid that, if he did, this moment would vanish into thin air and he would have to wait another couple of millennia for another chance of an occasion like this: an instant in which they actually came close to naming the unnameable thing between them. A chance to go deeper into their relationship.

Only after a few seconds, the angel realized that he had been asked a question; more accurately, he had been requested a confirmation of his previous statement. He tried to open his mouth, to say “Yes, of course, I would”, or “Yes, a thousand times yes”, or “I could kiss you for another six thousand years, until I have spent more time kissing you than not, and it still wouldn’t be enough”, or any other variation of an affirmative, but when he tried to open his mouth, he felt his tongue heavy as if it were suddenly made of iron, and his throat constricted as if it were being strangled by a particularly strong rubber band.

He choked on his words.

He was scared. 

Not that feeling scared was any sort of new experience for the angel. He had spent the best part of the last millennium living in fear, terrified that Heaven and Hell would find out about the Arrangement, and later on, about his feelings for Crowley. Dread was his basal state at that point.

This was a different flavor of fear, though.

It was the absolute terror of messing up the best thing in his life, of losing the person who meant the most to him. Any punishments Heaven could inflict onto him would pale in comparison to the ordeal of being without Crowley for the rest of eternity because he screwed up his words.

It would never cease to amaze him the power that words had, to make or break anything. Sometimes, words were even more powerful than actions themselves.

Actions.

That was it! If his traitorous mouth2 wouldn’t let answer in words, he would respond in actions. He would actually **kiss **him.

On second thought, that would be even more risky, of course. But he had committed himself to go faster, hadn’t he? And the timing was so perfect, he couldn’t possibly let it go to waste. An actual kiss was as good as a confession as an admission of his desire to kiss the Heaven out of him was, right? A...confession, that was what he was doing. Confessing his romantic feelings for his best friend. Oh, dear.

His initial plan had been to confess at the picnic, after a few cups of wine that would ideally help him loosen up a little, so that he would (maybe) actually be able to speak coherent words. After all, he had spent a painstakingly amount of time planning and memorizing a declaration of love, just like had read on his favorite novels; he had started formulating it as soon as Crowley accepted his invitation for this picnic. Everything was planned out, every single word carefully thought out, as to properly convey the true depth of his feelings.

And he was about to throw all of that out the window and just bloody kiss him.

Well, you have to grab your opportunities when they come, isn’t that what people say? Maybe he wouldn’t have another chance, another moment as perfect, as convenient as this during the picnic. Maybe this was a gift, an opportunity bestowed to him from God Herself. Maybe. He would like to believe so.

Besides, he could always give his grandiose speech after the kiss.

_Okay, okay, I’m doing this, I am actually doing this, oh God. Please, let me do this right, please don’t let me mess this up._

He leaned on, very, _very_, **very **slowly, trying to gauge the demon’s reaction beforehand. Crowley, as soon as he realized what Aziraphale was doing, let out a choked “Ngh”, before going entirely rigid, paralyzed. His mouth was left slightly agape, and he gripped the steering wheel with such force that the wheel threatened to snap in two at any moment, and his knuckles were completely white. There was a slight, almost imperceptible tremor on his hands, one that you would only notice if you paid extra attention to him, just like Aziraphale always did. The angel couldn’t see behind his sunglasses, but he would bet every book on his bookshop that his serpentine pupils were full-blown, a clear sign that he was under severe emotional stress.

He was _terrified_.

He didn’t look like someone getting ready to have an exciting and hot makeout session with his crush. He looked like a man who would probably **die **(more accurately, discorporate) from a heart attack if he were to actually be kissed right now.

Which wasn’t really too far from the truth, considering that Crowley was trying really hard to keep himself from reverting into a serpent and slithering away from the angel, from this situation, as fast as he could. Surely snakes couldn’t feel things so intensely, couldn’t be threatened to discorporation by pure anxiousness and panic, and certainly weren’t vulnerable to overthinking to the metaphorical death.

_Is he…is he for real? Is he **actually** gonna kiss me, just like that? Are we actually doing this? Or… is he just playing with me? Like, is he just doing this just to prove that he can? Because of the game? He wouldn’t do that, right_?_ He must know how I feel, he can’t not know, and he wouldn’t be this fucking cruel...right? Fucking hell, I don’t know. I don’t want to fuck this up, whatever this is. Is this like, a test? How should I react? Should I… reciprocate? Or should I just stay still and pretend like this is nothing? For **fuck’s** sake, Aziraphale, what do you want from me?_

In the end, he didn’t actually transform himself into a snake and ran away. After all, the angel was already too far into his personal space when he had the idea. He was cornered, no time to run. He just put himself at Aziraphale’s mercy, closed his eyes and prayed to Someone that he would do the right thing, whatever the Heaven that was.

Aziraphale, however, was suddenly on a crossroads. He couldn’t actually kiss him now, not when Crowley was acting like he was getting ready to be stabbed in the chest instead of opening himself to receive affection. It would be an abhorrent first kiss and most likely non-consensual. That would not do. But he couldn’t back down as well, as it would inevitably be seen as a rejection. And he was done with rejecting this, rejecting _him_. So he went for a middle ground: he landed his lips on his cheek, at the very corner of the demon’s mouth.

_He’s scared._, he thought with a slight frown, closing his eyes as to savor the kiss since another one might not be coming so soon for him_. Of course he is. After all the times that I rejected him, he must be really confused by this sudden change on my behavior. He’s probably afraid of doing something wrong and being pushed away again, like I’ve pushed him all these years. Oh, dearest…_ He felt a sudden weight settling in his chest, a sharp pain of guilt._ I have no right to rush him now, out of the blue. I guess** I’m** the one going too fast for him now, hah… _

He could almost taste him, could almost satiate his thirst for the lips of the demon. He was close enough to pick up his scent, the sweetened smell of sulfur and a pleasant smell of burning wood, mixed in with some smaller fragrances of plants and wine. It was intoxicating. He wanted to bury his nose on the curve of his neck and inhale that scent forever. This was his own Ultimate Temptation, he was certain of it: to be so close to what he had always wanted, standing on the edge of it, but not being actually able to have it.

He wondered if that’s how Eve and Adam felt before, having the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil so close to them, within their reach, but not actually getting to taste it. No wonder she couldn’t resist the temptation. Crowley **was **the Original Tempter, after all. Six thousand years and he hadn’t lost his touch.

Not that he actually believed that Crowley had been actively tempting him all this time; on the contrary, judging by the demon’s reaction, this was the last thing he would ever expect to happen. And that was the best, most beautiful part of it: how none of this had been forced, or even intentional. It was just Crowley being Crowley, and Aziraphale loving him for it. And if everything went right, until the end of the day, it would be another “temptation” accomplished on the demon’s curriculum, and a big one, for once. He wouldn’t rob both of them from what they should always have had for much longer.

He just had to make the demon see that he was ready now, that he could go as fast as he wanted with him and it would still be too slow to catch up on their lost time.

Actions had always been Crowley’s main way of expressing his feelings. Yes, Aziraphale had noticed; all of the little and big gestures throughout the years, from simply keeping him company on some meal to risking his life to save him (more than once); none of them ever failed to warm his heart and make him feel like he was worth the world, or even perhaps, the universe itself. Never failed to make him feel loved.

Perhaps, that was the way to go. Even if Crowley had never explicitly told him the words “I love you”, or any variation with the same meaning, all of the aforementioned actions had conveyed just as much, if not more, his love for him, to the point of Aziraphale being completely convinced that his feelings were mutual.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t done much of this non-verbal communication in return over the years, always repressing his feelings out of fear for their own safeties. He had only let his adoration escape through his eyes, through the lovesick gazes he could not keep himself from throwing on the demon’s direction whenever he wasn’t looking. And well, all of his invitations to eat out with him, or just hang out at some park or at the bookshop, were all expressions of his desire to spend quality time with him, but the romantic intent behind them was too implicit and they could easily be mistaken for some platonic, friendly outings (the angel regarded them as dates on his mind, but I digress).

That ought to change.

Now the dam was broken and he would not contain his affectionate impulses anymore. All of the sweet and romantic gestures he had always longed to make were fair game now. He would speak to Crowley on his own language of love; that ought to make him see that he had nothing to be afraid of, that he was loved just as much in return, right? After all, some say the actions speak louder than words.

(The problem was that Crowley had built his mindset around the idea that actions were ambiguous and prone to misinterpretations, and so, not to be trusted, while words were more reliable, more set in stone. Not that Aziraphale had any possible way of knowing that, since communication is a serious issue in this relationship. Two toddlers on a pre-speech stage would probably have better communication skills than those two.)

So. There was some flirting that needed to be done. Some wooing, you might even say. That should be easy, ignoring the fact that his traitorous human body tended to get extreme physiological reactions whenever he dared to try to cross the unspoken line that had been drawn in the middle of their feelings.

His lips lingered there, at the corner of his mouth, for a few good seconds, before his nerves got the best of him and made him quickly retreat, with a bright red blush on his cheeks and a quiver on his lips. He couldn’t stop smiling, though, lifting his fingers to his lips, tracing over them as if trying to capture the feeling of Crowley’s skin on them and to keep it forever with him.

After a few moments of giddiness, he dared to open his eyes again and look at his beloved, finding his lack of reaction very weird. He was almost worried that his counterpart had really run away, like all of his body language had indicated that he was keen on doing.

The sight that welcomed him made his chest constrict with an overwhelming wave of fondness, and it took all of his willpower to not surge forward and capture his beloved in an all-encompassing hug, and to not let go of him until the next century.

Crowley was smiling as if he had been handed each and every star in the entire universe on a silver platter. It was such a pure, innocent smile, that it should feel really out of place on the face a demon; however, Aziraphale thought that Crowley was probably the only being on the entirety of Creation deserved to smile like that. The demon unknowingly mirrored the angel’s action, raising his (still trembling) fingers to the corner of his lips, where he had been kissed, as if he needed some actual proof that he hadn’t blacked out and imagined the whole thing. There was an even deeper and darker shade of red on his cheeks, rivaling the color of his hair, extending all the way down to his neck.

He looked absolutely lovestruck. Aziraphale had never seen him look so beautiful.

\- Crowley? My dear? – he inquired, with the tenderest tone on his voice, a timbre reserved exclusively for the demon. After all, no one else could ever evoke this level of affection from the angel. – Are you alright? Was…was that okay?

Crowley, as if waking up from a pretty good daydream, snapped his eyes open at the angel’s words, his gaze still dazed from the overwhelming surge of serotonin in his organism. He frowned slightly at Aziraphale’s question as if wondering what in all of Creation could ever **not **be okay, before the reminder of the last few seconds caught up with him, sobering him up faster and more efficiently than any miracle. He froze, his smile quickly fading into a forced expression of indifference, and he removed his fingers from his mouth as if they had been dipped into Holy Water.

** _Shit, shit, shit, SHIT_ ** _! How long have I been standing here, looking like a lovesick idiot? Okay, calm down, deep breaths, calm the fuck down, don’t fuck this up, aw, fuck, what am I saying, I’ve already fucked this up. One little innocent, platonic kiss on the cheek, just to prove his point, and I get this flustered. Might as well have dropped on one knee and blurted my bloody feelings, being that obvious. What will Aziraphale think? **Fuck**!_

Crowley, being a demon who had lied to his superiors on a daily basis for the best part of six thousand years, had his fair share of experiences on feeling cornered. So, he had developed a few defense mechanisms, a few ways to deal with these sorts of situations, preferably as to leave them still alive.

He went for his favorite one, the one which was almost his modus operandi for life: Feigning nonchalance. As if he wasn’t an absolute mess on the inside, having been turned into putty by the simplest touch from Aziraphale. – Ngh, h-hah, of courssssse, angel, of courssssse. W-why wouldn’t it be? – unfortunately, his hissing had completely ruined any semblance of indifference.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything in response, just kept staring back at him with an adoring gaze, as if Crowley were the only thing in the entire universe who was worthy of being watched. It made a pleasant warmth settle on his chest, but it was quickly stomped out as he started to rationalize what exactly that had meant.

_Well, that was that. He made his intentions clear, once and for all. If he really wanted something more, that would have been the perfect way to show that. Guess it’s still too fast for him. _He sighed, unable to stop the pang of hurt on his chest from being friendzoned. _Oh well, can’t say that I expected anything different. At least I got to have this, I guess. Maybe he would allow me to kiss his cheek, I wonder? I could always argue that it was just to return the favor…_

Oblivious to the demon’s internal monologue, Aziraphale was on cloud nine himself, still fighting the urge to throw himself at the demon’s arms. He thought he might discorporate from the sheer force of his feelings, his angelic constitution not made to concentrate so much of his love on one singular entity.

\- So, angel… - whatever he was going to say, just to lighten up the emotionally heavy air around them, died on his lips at the sight of Aziraphale. The angel was literally glowing, his aura projecting out of him like a beacon of light; he had the sweetest smile on his lips, and the glimmer on his eyes rivaled the spark of the brightest star that the demon had ever created.

He looked so adorable. Fuck. Crowley thought he knew of torture, having been on both ends of it (unwillingly in either case, but still), but this? Having such beauty only to see, and not to touch, not to make his? It was a craftsman's torture, something that Hell would never, in all of Eternity, be able to come up with. It could only have been Her work, he was sure of it.

Maybe… maybe he could kiss him on the cheek. Just this once. One time would be enough, for a lifetime, if that was all Aziraphale would ever be willing to give him.

_Don’t be a coward, don’t be a coward, don’t be a fucking coward_, he silently prayed to himself, with a heavy sigh. He swiftly glanced around, searching for any demonic presences around them who might be watching (he had a reputation to uphold, for Earth’s sake! He couldn’t be seen being all soft and lovey-dovey with an angel. Or with anyone, for the matter, but especially with an angel. He would never ever be able to show his face on Hell again if anyone saw this; not that he had any intention of going back to that shithole ever again, but you never know). He didn’t sense anything. Good.

Without thinking too hard, lest he would surely give up, he crossed the distance between them and landed a quick kiss on the angel’s cheek. Not as near to his lips as he had been kissed (he wasn’t **that** brave, and, besides, the angle was shit from his position; he had to be careful enough just to not hit the angel’s lips on accident3), but a kiss on the cheek, nonetheless. He didn’t linger, though. Just enough to grasp a sweet and pleasant smell of flowers, the standard smell of angels, mixed in with the faint but ever-present aroma of books and cocoa, Aziraphale’s personal scent.

He could get high on that scent.

Quick as a bolt of lightning, he retreated back, as if trying to pretend that it had never happened. He didn’t dare to look at Aziraphale’s reaction, afraid that he would find any poorly concealed trace of rejection on his eyes. He gave himself the right to pretend that he would find instead an infatuated look on his pale blue eyes if he were to look.

It was a shame he didn’t look though, since his fantasy was actually true. If the angel had already been elated before, now he couldn’t possibly contain his smile from splitting up his face.

\- Yes, my dear? You were saying something? – asked Aziraphale, trying to will his wide grin to fade away before it got too weird. Luckily for him, the demon was very intently avoiding to look at him; instead, he was finally realizing once more that there was, in fact, a world outside the car, a world outside of him and Aziraphale. He also noticed that they weren’t stuck on a traffic jam anymore, and, in fact, were almost leaving the M25 altogether. He blinked in quick succession, astonished, before realizing what his amazing car had done.

\- Good girl. – he muttered, petting the steering wheel as if he were caressing a child’s head. The Bentley could be a bitch to him sometimes, but it was still the best car he could ever have. He heard a faint honk of acknowledgement, and smiled softly to himself.

\- Huh… I… – the demon struggled to think of something on the spot, since he hadn’t actually planned what to say earlier - Well, I think we’re done with Fuck, Marry, Kill. I’m getting bored of it. _More like, I’ve managed to fucking shoot myself in the foot and win the bloody lottery at the same time with this shit. I don’t have the emotional strength to deal with it anymore._ Let’s play something else. There’s still a long way till the park, we have time for another game. – as he finished his answer, he made a turn to the left, and suddenly, they were out of the freeway, into a relatively empty road. Crowley’s grin lighted up like Christmas lights. - Oh, **hell** yeah! **Now** we’re talking! – he exclaimed, pushing the accelerator with all his might, reaching 90mph in the span of seconds.

Aziraphale, who was still basking in the afterglow of their affectionate exchanges, was suddenly startled by the abrupt and extreme change of speed, and reached for the car handle almost as if on instinct. He, as well, took a moment to take notice of the rest of the world again, before beginning his usual chastising of the demon’s crazy driving habits: - Oh, dear, Crowley, you are going to discorporate us both!

\- “_Oh, dear, Crowley, you are going to discorporate us both!”_ – repeated the demon, on a mocking tone, with a roll of his eyes. He raised the speed to 100mph, just out of spite. – Angel, c’mon, I’ve been giving you a lift ever since 1941, have I ever made us crash? Don’t you trust my driving skills?

\- I would sooner trust your car’s competence than your driving skills, dear boy. – answered Aziraphale, with a teasing smile. He received a soft honk as a token of gratitude. - And don’t forget when you hit poor Anathema’s bike.

\- …Bastard. – he muttered, with his usual annoyed tone, but the lopsided smile on his lips betrayed his amusement – I should make you get out and walk all the way to the park, you know? And for the record, I didn’t hit her, she hit me.

\- Sure, whatever you say. – the angel conceded, with a fond roll of his eyes. – So, you were saying we should play something else? Do you have anything in mind?

\- I dunno, maybe we could play Would you Rather, it’s another classic. Do you know this one?

\- Oh, I believe I am acquainted with it! – replied the angel, excitedly. – It’s the one in which one person proposes a dilemma to the other, between two options, and the other has to pick one of them, right?

\- Wow angel, you actually do know a game that isn’t lame? Props to you. – congratulated the demon,with an amused smirk and a quirk of his eyebrow. That earned him a playful shove on his arm.

\- Oh dear, do shut up. – chided Aziraphale, his words without any hint of actual bite or annoyance. - Let me go first: Would you rather… – he raised a finger to his lips, assuming a contemplative posture. – … for us to spend time at your flat or at my bookshop?

Crowley raised his eyebrows, although he really shouldn’t really have been surprised. – The bookshop, always, but no, Aziraphale, that’s not the fun way to play this game. You’re supposed to ask hard questions. Like, would you rather never be able to eat again, or never be able to read any books ever again?

\- Oh, neither one. – dismissed Aziraphale, with a flicker of his hand. - Both options are quite terrible.

\- That’s the point! – exclaimed the demon, letting go of the steering wheel to gesticulate dramatically with his hands. - To force you to choose between two terrible scenarios and to explain your rationale behind it!

_\- _But why would you ever purposefully consider such horrible choices, if you don’t need to? – queried the angel, legitimely curious about the appeal of submitting oneself to such form of emotional torture. – And don’t let go of the wheel, for Heaven’s sake!

\- Because it’s fun. – he answered, grabbing the steering wheel once more. Satan, Aziraphale was such a killjoy sometimes. Why did he have to fall in love with someone so lame?

\- I hardly see the fun in it, dear boy, but if you insist… – Aziraphale sighed, clearly annoyed, but willing to indulge his demon: - I guess I would rather stop eating, but only if I really needed to. I would miss food so badly, especially the crêpes, but I believe that spending the rest of eternity without being able to read any of the new stories and tales that the humans will come up with would be even more terrible. And you didn’t specify anything about drinking, so I assume that I would still be able to indulge on tea and wine and cocoa, so it would be a tad less dire.

\- See? That was already fun. – grinned the demon, the same smug smile he flashed whenever he managed to succeed on a particularly amusing temptation. – And you have already figured out about the loopholes. I’m so proud of you, angel, you have barely started and you are already a pro on this game.

\- I wouldn’t say it was **fun**, per se, but I do admit that it was amusing to contemplate such an unlikely scenario – Aziraphale was beating around the bush, not willing to admit defeat. The demon’s grin grew wider. – It was interesting to think about what I would prioritize. But not exactly fun, mind you.

\- I’m just gonna file that under “ Times Aziraphale admitted that I was right” and move on. – the angel opened his mouth to protest, but Crowley cut him off before he could begin. - C’mon, Aziraphale, my turn. Shoot.

The angel had no words. The nerve of him! God, Crowley was so rude sometimes. Why did he have to fall in love with someone so insufferable? – Fine.Would you rather be able to hear your plants speak, or to be able to hear your car speak?

\- I know that you meant that as a good thing, but both of these scenarios would actually be quite hellish, so I’m couting that as you learning to play this game the right way. – countered the demon, still smiling smugly. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, pondering about his answer. - I mean, if the plants could talk they would be bitching on my ear all the time whenever I’m on my flat, being the spineless, pathetic excuses of weeds that they are. And if the Bentley could talk, well… I mean, she already screws me over without talking, imagine if she could? I would really have to buy a new car. – that earned him a pretty loud and aggressive honk, as well as an abrupt drop on the speed.

\- Shut up, you know I’m right. – complained the demon, hissing at the car while picking up the speed again. - But I guess the lesser of two evils would be to have her talk. Totally not because I don’t want her to take control and crash us into a lamppost as revenge, I swear. – he declared, on an ironic tone of voice, but actually caressed the steering wheel affectionetelly. - Your turn. Would you rather have to sell your favorite book, or to only be able to listen to songs from The Sound of Music for the rest of your life?

\- …Why must you insist on coming up with scenarios designed specifically to make me suffer? – inquired the angel, with a soft sigh. - I’m starting to think you have a bit of a sadistic streak on you.

\- Uh, hello, nice to meet you, I’m a **demon**. – he waved his hand at him, ironically. - I’m **supposed** to be sadistic.

\- Sure, dear boy. Whatever you say. – replied the angel, on a sarcastic tone. He sighed softly once more. - I suppose I would sell my favorite book, if I had to. I could always buy another one. Although it **is **a signed first edition… - he pouted at the thought of having to part ways with his dearest novel.

The demon rolled his eyes at the angel’s dejection. - C’mon Aziraphale, stop moping. It’s just a game. Your turn to give me a question. And give me a challenge this time!

\- Fine, my dear, you want a challenge? I’ll give you a challenge. – snapped the angel, a little fed up with his counterpart’s insistence. - Let’s do it your way: Would you rather relive the 14th Century, or spend one whole day at a church? And yes, you have to spend all of it standing over the consecrated ground. No flying or standing over the benches. No loopholes for you.

\- Wow, angel, you pull no punches when you want to, huh? Now **that’s** what I’m talking about! – cheered the demon, actually feeling proud of the angel’s harshness. – Well, I’d clearly pick the little getaway at a church. **Anything** but the 14th century again. Besides, what’s a bit of burning feet for a few hours? I’ve endured much worse torture in Hell, and for much longer. – the angel’s expression fell at the offhand remark about his dearest being tortured, but he managed to steel his features before the demon could notice it. - Now, your turn: Would you rather let me dictate your wardrobe for a century, or have to spend one millennium away from Earth?

\- …You would really screw me over with the clothes, wouldn’t you? – inquired the angel, with a certain dread on his words - I mean, knowing you, you would dress me up in the most ridiculous ways just because you could.

\- Most probably, yeah. – confirmed the demon, with a wicked grin that threatened to split his face.

\- Even then, I think that would be preferable than a thousand-year exile from Earth. I can just hide away in the bookshop the entire time, so no one else has to be privy to my humiliation.

\- Think carefully, it would mean that I would be your sole companion for a hundred years. – teased the demon, quirking his eyebrows.

\- That would hardly be much of a problem, my dear. – answered the angel, on a teasing tone, but with raw honesty behind his words. – Would you rather get discorporated or have to reveal your deepest secret?

Crowley’s breath got stuck on his throat at the angel’s words, his playfulness snuffed out off him like a candle being blown. Well, fuck. Talk about a **real **lose-lose situation. - Considering that getting discorporated at this point is practically a death sentence, since Hell would never give me a new body and without a new body I’d be stuck there, at their mercy, for the rest of eternity, I’ll have to say that I would reveal my deepest secret. That would ruin my life as well, though. – he sighed, feeling a weight settle on his chest.

He could envision it perfectly, the way Aziraphale would react if he told him everything, if he revealed just how fast he really wanted to go with him. If he dared to break the glass wall they’ve built around their feelings as a means to conceal them, crashing into it with that speed. He could practically see it, the thin-veiled dismissal and abjection on his gaze; he could just about hear his “_Oh dear, I am ever so sorry, but I believe we are not on the same page on this one_” ringing in his ears; he could already feel the sting of **rejection** on his chest, slashing him open like the assault of a flaming sword.

He had been able to take the rejection back in 1967 (barely) but he wasn’t as strong nowadays as he had been back then. At that time, he hadn’t had the experience of seeing and talking to the angel not only a few times every century, but instead, every single day, as they had for the last 11 years because of their plan, and, after the Armaggenot, simply because they felt like it. He hadn’t gotten a taste of what actual easygoingness and intimacy with him felt like. To have to take it all back because of the awkwardness that would surely follow his confession would cripple him irrevocably now.

Besides, now he couldn’t delude himself into thinking that the only reason the angel refused him all this was because of their Head Offices and because what they had was fitting of a Shakespearean tragedy (no wonder he had always hated them), and not due to the fact that the angel simply didn’t want to be with him, with a demon, despite his feelings. Not even napping for a century would be able to heal his broken heart this time.

He could wait another six thousand years, hell, he could wait the rest of his eternal life on this little game of unspoken feelings, but he could **not **lose what he had now, could not revert to awkwardness and to having too many walls between them. He could not lose their little dates and picnics and drinking sessions and just plain hanging out, without needing to pretend they had a reason to anymore. – Fuck, you got me on that one, Aziraphale. Congrats.

He turned his gaze to the angel, expecting to see some sort of smugness or triumph on his face for having “beat” him at a game he had suggested himself, but was surprised to find worry and anxiety written all over his features. - Do you… do you really think that? – asked Aziraphale, with a small voice, his tone full of horror. - I mean, that they would do that to you?

\- Oh, I’m sure of it. – guaranteed the demon with a dismissive hand gesture, completely certain of his words. - Even if they think they can’t kill me with Holy Water, they’d just lock me up on a dungeon and torture me for the rest of time. Hastur would be very keen to get his hands on me, I’m sure. To get revenge on Ligur and everything. What about you? Think Heaven would be ever so willing to let you go a second time? – he inquired, almost rhetorically, knowing unquestionably the answer to be a solid _no_.

Gabriel’s stupid face flashed on his mind, the words “Shut your stupid mouth and die already” looping on his ears like a mantra. He gripped the steering wheel harder, wishing he could squeeze the life out of the archangel with his hands instead. How dare him, how dare all of those white-winged bastards try to kill Aziraphale, the best angel, the best _person_ he had ever met? _Never again_, he had vouched to himself on that day, as he was left Heaven, still on the angel’s body. Never again any of those wankers would lay a hand on a single feather of his angel’s wings. He would discorporate himself a thousand times before letting them take Aziraphale away from him again.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was still trying to come to terms with the revelation Crowley had bestowed onto him. He had never stopped to think about it, but it obvious that Heaven and Hell were only leaving them alone for now because they were out of their domain. If they were to be at their mercy again… He shivered. Thoughts of himself being stuck in Heaven for all of eternity, probably to be indoctrinated and turned into a mindless servant of Heaven, or perhaps, being forced to Fall, invaded his mind.

Then, he was bombarded with thoughts of _Crowley_, locked up for all of eternity at the darkest pit of Hell, being tortured to submission for the rest of time, his eyes losing all of their spark, his mouth never smiling that beautiful smile of his again, his favorite person in all of Creation becoming a shell of himself. He couldn’t suppress a gasp, his body feeling ill at the mere thought of it. _No, I can’t, I won’t let that happen_., he swore to himself, hugging himself as a poor substitute for his instinct to hug the demon close to him and never let him out of his sight. _I have to protect him._

Crowley, feeling the angel’s anguish radiating from him like waves4, was quick to reassure him: - Don’t worry, angel. I won’t let you discorporate ever again. – he laid his hand on the angel’s shoulder, softly, offering a comforting smile. It wasn’t on his demonic nature to know how to soothe someone else, but he had learned a few things over his years of friendship with an angel prone to anxiety. – I’ve saved you over and over throughout the years, haven’t I? I’m not gonna start slacking off now. – he forcibly pushed the thoughts of a certain bookshop burning to ashes from his mind.

Aziraphale's heart melted at the gesture, the wave of love flowing through his body threatening to discorporate him once more. His selfless demon. - And **I **will protect you as well, my dear. I promise.– he gently reached for the hand on his shoulder, taking it on his own and planting the tenderest of kisses at his knuckles, as a knight on the medieval times would kiss his lady he has sworn to protect.

All coherent thought left Crowley’s brain.

\- Ngh. Sure, whatever. – mumbled Crowley, suddenly looking very interested in the landscape in front of them. Aziraphale wanted to giggle. How adorable. A six thousand-year-old _demon_, the Serpent of Eden, Original Tempter, coming apart at the seams by the mere touch of his lips on his hand. He rubbed his thumb at his fingers, affectionally, before letting go.

\- I am waiting for my next dilemma, Crowley. – announced the angel, on a very bastardly manner.

\- Uh. Er, ok. – he stammered, still a little overwhelmed by the hand kiss. _What the Heaven is Aziraphale playing at? First that blasted kiss on my cheek and now this?Is he actually trying to discorporate me? Fucking bastard, make up your fucking mind..._ \- Would you rather... – he struggled to think of anything, just so he wouldn’t leave the angel hanging. Suddenly, he remembered one old as hell dilemma, which by the way had been created by himself as an attempt to divide people’s opinions; it was still one of his favorite accomplishments: - …fight 100 duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?

\- Come on, Crowley, that one is too easy! You are losing your touch. – complained the angel, with a teasing smile. He was actually having way too much fun with this now, despite his initial protests. – Everyone knows it’s easier to fight a horse-sized duck. Although I would feel sorry for the poor fellow. Now, for you: would rather be stuck as serpent for the rest of your life, or have to face your biggest fear?

For a second, time seemed to freeze, and, since it’s Crowley we’re talking about, there **was** a real possibility that the time had been stopped. But no, it was only the fact that every atom that constituted the demon’s body had came to a halt, leaving him frozen in place, as traumatic thoughts began to creep into his mind.

\- Crowley? My dear? – asked Aziraphale, all of his previous cheekiness gone in an instant as he noticed the stillness that had taken over his companion. The demon, however, couldn’t hear the angel’s pleas, being stuck on his own mind, replaying the same images of fire and burning and complete loneliness over and over and over, like a video left to play on repeat. If it weren’t for the Bentley taking over once more, sensing its driver’s distress, they would have surely crashed into a lamppost and effectively discorporated themselves, since they were going at 100mph. – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, have I gone too far? I didn’t-

\- My biggest fear? –he spoke, not really talking to the angel as much as he was talking to himself, as if unable to keep his thoughts inside his head; he needed to vent about them, somehow. - You wanna talk about my biggest fear? I have **already **faced my biggest fear, Aziraphale, so checkmate for you. – his tone was vicious, spitting every word with more venom than his serpentine form could ever produce. Aziraphale didn’t dare to say a word, just allowing his beloved to let it all out, while looking at him with concern and a growing sadness in his chest. – And I would do **anything** to keep it from happening again. Make me be a serpent for eternity, make me Fall again, Hell, I would walk straight into Hell again and never come back if I had to, to avoid that. – he broke into a humorless and bitter laughter, like a mad man on the brink of insanity. - I mean, it would be like if I asked you: would rather Fall or lose the most important thing in your life? – he finished his rant, suddenly feeling breathless and very,very tired.

His vision finally focused again, his consciousness returning to the real world after its little trip to the PTSD world. He found himself staring at Aziraphale, whose expression was filled with so much misery and heartbreak that his protective instinct flared up immediately, getting ready to make whoever had hurt his angel pay. It took a second more for his mind to catch up with what his mouth had said, and as it did, he immediately regretted each and every one of his most recent words.

He tried to speak, to explain himself, to tell Aziraphale to ignore whatever he had said on the last minute, to allegate a temporary madness, to say anything that would make the angel forget about his embarrassing and quite frankly, pathetic display of weakness, but the angel cut him off before he could say any of it: -Azira–

\- I’d Fall in a heartbeat.

_\- _Huh?

\- I’d Fall in a heartbeat, before losing what’s most important to me.– answered the angel, staring directly into the demon’s eyes. His gaze, albeit still plagued by dejection, was unwavering and sure of itself; it was clear that his words were spoken one hundred percent from the heart, with no trace of deceit. In fact, he said it as if he were stating a well-estabilished fact, such as: “I like books”, or: “You like driving”.

Inside his mind, the angel was berating himself for not having realized sooner how deeply hurt the demon was. He had a strong feeling he knew what his beloved was talking about (and if it were true, it would only make him feel even guiltier), but even if he was wrong, he was still at fault for not noticing his counterpart’s pain. _He was suffering that much, and I didn’t even know? What kind of best friend am I_?

The demon blinked once, than twice, and then a third time, not quite believing what he was witnessing. He wasn’t really sure about how to react as well, since his behavioral repertoire wasn’t well-equipped enough to deal with something so unimaginable as that. His best bet in dealing with bizarre situations was to make use of humor, specifically irony, and so he employed it once more, although he couldn’t hide the shake on his voice – H-hah, can’t believe that you actually Fall for some books, angel, I know that you like reading but-

\- It’s not books. – denied Aziraphale, with a somber tone. His gaze grew even sadder.

\- Well, I know that you almost got discorporated because of some crêpes, but that seems a little too extreme, even for-

\- Crowley, my dear, **please** tell me that you are joking. – begged the angel, - grabbing the sleeve of the demon’s jacket on a desperate attempt to make him stop messing with him. - Please tell me that you… that you know... – his voice broke, unable to keep talking as a wave of despair took over him, forming a lump in his throat. _Please tell me that you know that **you** are the most important thing in my life. Please tell me that I didn’t fail you so badly that you don’t even know how much I love you._

He could feel the pinpricks of tears on his eyes and the heaviness on his chest, but he refused to cry. Not because he wasn’t comfortable being vulnerable with his best friend, but because he knew that he would feel guilty if he saw him crying, and he really didn’t want that.

Meanwhile, the demon was trying really hard to ignore the waves of hopelessness emanating from the angel by his side, but it was hard. It was so bad that he wasn’t even flustered by the touch on his arm, since the angel’s anguish was enough to put him off. Yes, he had an idea, he could bet with some security that he was the most important thing to Aziraphale as well. And that was exactly why he couldn’t deal with the response to the premise he had proposed in his insane state, why he couldn’t even begin to unpack all of that. 

The idea of Aziraphale Falling was enough nightmare material on his own5, but if he Fell because of him? If someone as pure and good as his angel were to be submitted to the excruciating and traumatic experience of Falling and becoming a demon, because of **him**? Guilt wouldn’t even begin to describe what he would feel. He didn’t think he would actually be able to live with himself, and he would almost hope that Aziraphale would resent and hate him for it, just so he wouldn’t feel even more guilty when he actually used Holy Water as a suicide pill. The mere thought of seeing his angel’s beautiful white wings turned into pitch black, having had his Grace ripped apart from him, was enough to make him sick.

They came into a red stop sign on the road. Usually, Crowley wasn’t bothered with stop signs, either miracling them up to green if he was feeling particularly mischievous and willing to cause some transit mayhem, or, in most cases, just making sure with a little demonic miracle that no one noticed that he was running through a red light, as well as another miracle to guarantee that he wouldn’t hit anyone who would happen to be crossing the street. But now, he had an anguished angel grabbing onto his arm, who was bitting back his tears on a futile effort to not make his counterpart worry or feel guilty. He could use a little interruption to fix the mess he had made.

Trying to not think too much about what he was doing, or he would be guaranteed to stop himself, he grabbed the angel by his face, softly – _Oh, Satan, what am I doing _– and brought it close to his (not close enough for them to touch, but just enough so that he would have his undivided attention), while pushing his glasses upward with a miracle, so the angel could see his eyes, burning with determination and protectiveness.

\- Listen to me, Aziraphale. – he ordered, with a strong and resolute voice, still holding to his cheeks. The angel’s dejected gaze perked up a little at that, surprised by the intervention. - You won’t Fall, ok? I won’t **ever** let you Fall, I won’t let them make you Fall. I’ll kill every fucking angel on Heaven, I’ll burn all of Heaven to **ash** with Hellfire, if I need to. – he knew very well that this wasn’t the angel’s main concern, the thing that was making him miserable. But he couldn’t, for the life of him, open that whole can of worms that was Aziraphale’s feelings for him right now, or he would start crying too and that would be a whole mess. So he addressed the other issue, the easier one. - I’ll fucking fistfight God if I have to. I would do anything, I swear.

The angel blinked at him, surprised by the demon’s sudden but fierce declaration, before giving him a watery smile and moving his hands to grab his counterpart’s cheeks as well. _I know that you would, dearest. And that’s what terrifies me the most._ He took advantage of their proximity to finally close the gap and push their foreheads together, his gaze not leaving his for a moment.

He spoke as well, his tone gentle but resolute: – And **I** will never let any demon lay a hand on you ever again, Crowley. I told you before and I’ll tell you again: If Hell wants to hurt you again, they will have to get through me first. – he was actually even closer to tears now, although now they were tears borne out of love, not despair. - If had to, I would flood all of Hell with Holy Water to keep you safe. I promise you, my… my dearest. – for once, he dared to finally call his counterpart by his appropriate endearment, hoping that the superlative would convey to the demon the truth about just about what, or who, was his most important thing. To top it off, he finished his declaration with style, angling his head downwards so his lips could meet the demon’s wrist on a tender kiss.

He let his lips linger on the skin there, without breaking eye contact for a second. He had landed his kiss just above the vein on his wrist, so he could feel how his heartbeat was racing faster than the car they were in. For once, he could see his lovely eyes, being privy to how his yellow irises were blown wide, his usually elliptical pupils dilated to the point of being round. They were so close that he could feel the demon’s shaky and hot breath against his face, against his lips were they not obstructed by the wrist he was kissing. All of the telltale signs of pure, unadulterated lust. And he imagined that he wasn’t faring any better, on the demon’s eyes. He reluctantly let go of the wrist after a few seconds, but he didn’t move away from their entanglement; if it were up to him, he never would.

Meanwhile, Crowley was struggling very hard to maintain even the loosest of grips on his self-control.

See, the thing was that demons weren’t even supposed to have self-control in the first place. As creatures of sin, they were actually **encouraged **to do what they wanted, whenever and however they wanted. And most of them actually lived by that rule. Not Crowley, though. In general, Crowley had a pretty good grip on his self-control, if compared to a human, and an extraordinary one, if compared to a demon. When it came to the angel, though, his self-control was three times stronger than usual. It had to be. If it wasn’t, he would have jumped at him and ravished his mouth eons ago, probably back on the wall of Eden itself.

So, usually, he could self-contain his not-so-platonic impulses towards the angel with relative ease. Thousands of years of practice makes one perfect at something. However, everyone has a breaking point. No self-restraint is ever perfect. Apply enough pressure, enough temptation, and even the most disciplined of people will snap like a twig.

And right now, there was more than enough temptation pressing down on Crowley’s self-control to make it shatter into a million pieces.

It was all too much: the inflection of the term of endearment to its superlative, the forehead touch, the fondness in his gaze as he looked at him, the kind smile on his lips, the calm but ardent protectiveness on his voice, _the fucking kiss on his wrist _(he was still reeling from both kisses on his cheek and on his hand, and now this? A bloody kiss on his wrist? Surely Aziraphale knew what that meant, he had to know how fucking romantically lustful that was). Not to mention how close their mouths were; he could feel Aziraphale’s breath on his mouth, for Someone’s sake!

He couldn’t take much more of this teasing, this blatant _flirting._ He didn’t know what game Aziraphale was playing, if he was actually trying to drive him to insanity (if so, he was succeeding) or just messing with him, but that needed to stop **right now**, before he did anything he would regret for the rest of life. A.k.a., before his self-control really snapped and he jumped on the angel’s mouth and kissed the Hell out of him.

He started to disentangle himself from the angel, very slowly removing his hands from the other’s cheeks, as if trying to savor the touch for as long as he could. It felt physically painful to sever that connection, and even more excruciating to withdraw his head and return them both to the natural status of separation.

However, before he could completely get away from the angel and resume his driver posture, he felt the hands that were still on his cheeks tighten their grip on his face in response, trying to keep him from completely leaving their embrace. He received a soft, questioning look from his counterpart, whose thumbs started to gently caress his upper cheeks as if saying “It’s okay. This is okay. You don’t have to run away”.

That was it. This was the breaking point. There was only so much a demon could take, and this? This was way too much for his demonic nature, probably too much even for a normal human to handle. His self-restraint officially clocked out on him; he was no longer responsible for his actions.

\- Ngh. – he muttered, almost inaudibly, while intaking a big breath. Aziraphale smiled at him again, and his loving gaze pierced through him like an arrow of devotion and adoration, practically burning him up from the inside with his Love, capital L. He couldn’t sustain that look for more than a second, instead lowering his gaze to the lips he had admired in secret for so long, behind his sunglasses. And just like the previous times he had gaped at them, he was mesmerized, just like a moth to a flame.

The only difference was that this time he wasn’t worried in the least about the fact that his adoration was all out in the open. There was the small background noise of his demonic senses alerting him to the presence of a strong feeling of lust around him, but he barely gave thought to it. The last embers of self-control inside him urged him to bite his lip as a last-ditch effort to contain himself.

Aziraphale, noticing his partner’s shift of gaze, smiled even wider and followed suit. There it was, his own Forbidden Fruit, more delicious than anything that Eve and Adam could have eaten on that Tree, he was certain of it. It would be so easy, so simple, to finally get a taste of it this time. Crowley would reciprocate, he was sure of it; his whole body language seemed to scream at him “Please, for the love of Someone, kiss me, I’m begging you”. Completely different than his petrified stance on that earlier occasion. Maybe **now** he could do it…?

Both of them seemed to get the same idea at the same time, having the unconscious “_Oh shit, I can kiss him” _realization in unison, putting both of them in a trance-like state of infatuation, with no space for fear and pining. As if on cue, they started angling their heads slightly, while closing their eyes and moving forward the tiniest amount of space possible at a time, just to test the waters. This was it, six thousand years of yearning and longing, of miles of imposed distance, culminating in this last few centimeters between them. The Big Moment was finally at hand.

Or at least it would be, if it weren’t for a honk from the car behind them, annoyed at the car in from of them for not moving along, since the traffic light had turned into green for about half a minute already.

The loud sound served as a wake-up call to them. In the same way as an alarm clock would wake a sleeping person, the honk snapped them out of their besotted daze, making them actively realize what they were doing; better yet, what they were about to do. Neither let go immediately, though, still holding on to each other like a lifeline, unwilling to have to go back to being the cold feeling of being on their own.

Aziraphale tightened his grip even more, trying to keep Crowley from slipping away from him, not just physically but emotionally as well, but it was already too late. The honk had been way too effective in breaking the demon out of his fearless state, and the claws of fear and insecurity were starting to take grasp of him again.

The angel felt his counterpart go tense, his whole body growing rigid as he let a shaky exhale through his mouth. He didn’t dare to look up to the demon’s gaze, not really willing to see the utter alarm he was sure to find there. He just let go of him, with a forlorn sigh, trying not to feel as if he was having a limb amputated. He carefully fiddled with his clothes, as if trying to smooth some wrinkles that weren’t there, just to give himself an excuse to not look at his beloved. He couldn’t handle that right now.

Crowley, on the other hand, had been paralyzed as if he were bound by a demon-binding circle (not an experience he would want to relive). It wasn’t even on purpose, he had just been alerted by a loud noise and realized that he was a little too close to Aziraphale than usual and _holy shit, I’m almost kissing Aziraphale_. His central nervous system, just like its owner, sure as Hell didn’t know how to react to it, and it decided to simply shut down. It was only due to his overwhelming sense of anxiety and his tendency to overthink that he didn’t blackout.

_Holy shit, holy shit, **HOLY SHIT**, what the fucking Heaven just happened, what the fuck, did he just-, shit, did he even reciprocate or was it just me, what the fuck, is this really happening or was I just-_

Another loud honk, this one slightly longer, snapped him out of his overthinking mess. He realized that he was still standing there, on the same position, like a complete idiot, while his angel had already removed himself from their entanglement and now was proceeding to stare gloomily at the window at his side, moping like a child whose parents refused to give them a new toy. The waves of sorrow and anger radiating from him were enough to be materialized at the demon’s eyes as a sort of heavy aura around him.

He couldn’t exactly recall what happened, but Aziraphale's reaction was telling enough to him, though.

-Ngh. – he groaned, trying to break the unbearingly loud silence that had stretched between them; Aziraphale didn’t even seem to acknowledge him. - Er… angel?

\- Hum? – grunted said angel, without a hint of movement on his direction.

\- … nothing. – he muttered, with enough heartbreak on his tone to write a tragic novel with it alone. The demon resumed his driver's stance, pulling his glasses down again, trying to hide his vulnerability behind them once again. He started driving again, trying to drown his despair on with it. Trying not to think that he had done it, he had finally pushed him away for good. It hurt almost as much as Falling.

Usually, Aziraphale would be filled with concern at the sound of the demon’s distressed tone and would proceed to try to offer some comfort to him. However, at that moment, the angel was too frustrated to care. He even didn’t give a damn about the outrageous speed on which the car as going anymore, his frustration outweighing everything.

He was frustrated at that driver for ruining everything (a few seconds later, all of the four tires of their car simultaneously flattened out, while its engine also seemed to die, but you cannot prove that Aziraphale had anything to do with it). Frustrated at himself for not being able to pull this off successfully yet another time. Frustrated at Crowley, for being so goddamn oblivious and hesitant (he immediately felt guilty for that one, though).

Fucking hell, he was frustrated at God Herself for clearly conspiring against him. Screw Heaven and Hell as well, for having forced him to delay this moment for so long, that now he didn’t know how to do it anymore. Screw everybody.

_Why? Why does every time I try to do this, something goes wrong? Why does it have to be so bloody hard_? _I love him, he loves me, so why the bloody Hell are we still doing this song and dance?_

He knew why, though. He wanted it to be perfect, he wanted it to be romantic and sweet and flawless and everything that Crowley deserved. He wanted it to be good enough to make up for their lost time. He sighed to himself, still staring at the window without really seeing anything. Maybe he should start focusing on just getting it done, for starters, to the detriment of perfection. Or maybe he was doing it all wrong, trying to rush it; he had a pretty solid plan for when they arrived, after all, and perhaps he should stick with it. He had waited for almost a century, surely he could wait for another hour or so; they were less than 40 miles away from the park, if his calculations were correct. 

They rode in (almost6) absolute silence, for about ten miles, too absorbed in their own thoughts and feelings to acknowledge one another, before the demon had an idea on how to start to undo the damage he had inadvertently caused.

-Listen. – he leaned forward and whispered to the car, hoping that his counterpart wouldn’t hear his words. He received a soft honk as an acknowledgement that it was listening. – I know you like Aziraphale7. If you promise to behave yourself, **really** behave yourself, I’ll give you your CD player back and we can play some of that classical shit he likes, to cheer him up, okay? Some Tchaikovsky would be nice, for starters. – the car honked once more, as if voicing his agreement. Crowley smiled, albeit a bit shakily, while fishing the CD that had originally been _The Best of Tchaikovsky _on the stash and inserting it on his recently miracled CD player. – Nice, let’s do this.

_Allegro con Fuoco_ started blasting off the speakers, snapping Aziraphale out of from his musings; he turned around, surprised, to look questioningly at Crowley. The demon offered him a watery smile, trying to not let his lips quiver anxiously.

\- Thought you might like to have ssssome to music to go with your ssssulking. – he joked, although his hissing gave away his nervousness. Aziraphale instantly softened at that, feeling all of his frustration leave his body at once. He offered him a pleasant smile, which served to bolster the demon’s confidence greatly. – Do you want some wine as well? – he asked, already reaching back to grab a hold of the picnic basket on the backseat – If I know you as well as I think I do, I’m sure that you packed some wine on your–

-No! – exclaimed the angel, grabbing the demon’s arm as a means to stop him from grabbing the basket; he couldn’t let him see the surprise he had tucked in there. Crowley, unaware of said surprise, quickly recoiled his arm, afraid he had messed up somehow. The angel was quick to rectify himself, while caressing the arm that was still on his grasp: – I mean, I’m fine, my dearest, don’t worry. I don’t want any wine now. What I actually want now is…

He took a deep breath, in an effort to calm the nerves of his traitorous body. He had done some thinking during their time spent in silence, and he had come to two conclusions:

1) Actions were surely Not Working, if Crowley’s reactions to his preliminary kisses and touches were to be believed. Maybe the demon needed some backup reassurance first before jumping in onto things, _of course he does, it’s Crowley, he overthinks **everything**, why am I so stupid sometimes?._ Which led to:

2) He had to restrategize, change his modus operandi. That is to say, he would go back to his original plan, to confess during the picnic. It was the most secure and most controllable course of action. And, most importantly, it would mean that he was back to using words. His main domain. If he managed to mess it up this time, then the situation was truly hopeless.

That being said, it didn’t mean he couldn’t start laying the groundwork for it beforehand, by getting both of them in the mood for some admissions of truth. They had come this far, opened up to each other so much, due to some silly little games; why not play one more, to finish it off? Third time’s the charm, it’s what they say. – …is for us to play Truth or Dare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Aziraphale really hated any pair of sunglasses that Crowley wore; not because of any personal quarrel with them, just because they obscured his view of the demon’s exquisite serpent eyes, which the angel was very much fond of. Frequently, he found himself cursing humanity’s inability to deal with differences, that forced his dearest to hide his eyes most of the time.  
What he could not for the life of him understand , though, was why Crowley insisted on wearing sunglasses even when it was only the two of them; after all, Aziraphale had lost himself on –I mean, looked at them infinite times by now; besides, he was an angel, so he was by proxy immune to the human’s prejudice and distaste for the different. So, he couldn’t understand. But of course, he wouldn’t force him to take his glasses off on their private moments; if the demon ever felt like it, he would do it on his own volition.
> 
> [2]Not that the rest of his body was any less traitorous than his mouth; he could feel the telltale signs of nervousness all over his body, but he decided to consciously ignore them and focus at the task at hand. It didn’t make them go away, though, just resulted in them becoming some kind of seriously annoying background noise.
> 
> [3] It would be a very welcoming accident, though… for about 5 seconds. Afterwards, it would turn into a life-ruining accident (at least in Crowley’s perception. The reality was far, far different, but he didn’t know that [yet]).
> 
> [4] Just like angels could feel love and strong positive emotions, demons could feel strong negative emotions, and lust. Thankfully to both species, their senses only captured said feelings when they were vibrating on a particularly powerful intensity; otherwise, both angels and demons would be constantly bombarded with overwhelming stimuli. 
> 
> [5] It was Crowley’s third biggest fear, losing only to his fear of losing Aziraphale in any shape or form (via death, estrangement, falling out, etc) and his fear of the surely upcoming Armaggedon Round 2, aka the Big One. However, Aziraphale Falling could be a lead up to his first and foremost fear, so it terrified him just as much.
> 
> [6] The only sound that could be heard was the Bentley’s engine roaring furiously, as a way to externalize its distress. If there was anyone who was feeling guiltier and even more frustrated with this whole affair, it was the car itself. Feeling frustrated because it had expected the two idiots to finally kiss, after been waiting for it for so long, and feeling guilty for being too caught up on their almost-kiss to start driving on its own as soon as the red light turned green, which could have avoided the interruption entirely.
> 
> [7] The Bentley had always liked Aziraphale, from the first time the angel had ridden on its passenger seat, clutching a bag of books to his chest and looking at its dear owner like he had hung the stars (Crowley had, as a matter of fact, hung (some of) the stars, and Aziraphale knew it, but that wasn’t the reason why the angel was looking at him so awestruck. It was because of something objectively very smaller, but subjectively bigger than anything.).  
Ever since that, the car had decided that the angel was the perfect suitor for the demon, the only one it would give its blessing to. The demon’s feelings towards him were also clear as day, and so, the car had waited patiently for the day on which they would finally be together, romantically. It had been almost eighty years since then, and they were still only friends, but it was a very patient car.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	4. Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some truths are said, some dares are done, and Aziraphale and Crowley are closer than ever to everything they've always wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have much to say this time, except that this was supposed to just be a small set-up for the next chapter, and i don't know how, but it tuned into a 10k monstruosity  
fml  
theresno refeences to the book in this chapter, i think.  
but hey, thank you guys so much for all the support you've been giving <3 it means the world to me, really.
> 
> (we're in the endgame now, guys.)

Out of all the possible things that Crowley thought that might have come out of Aziraphale’s mouth at that moment, an invitation to play Truth or Dare was so low on the list that it actually wasn’t even on it. He would sooner expect him to say “Okay, dear boy, it would be better if we didn’t see each other for a century or two, don’t you think?”, or “Crowley, my dear, I am desperately in love you and I would very much like if you kissed me right now”, or even “Let’s restart Armageddon”, before saying that.

There was a lot he could, a lot he **wanted **to say in response, like: “Huh, okay, sounds good”; or “Aren’t you mad at me for fucking up just now?”; or “If you keep calling me “dearest” like that I might actually discorporate, but please don’t stop”, but what actually came out of his mouth was: – Wait, you knew about a cool and not-lame game like Truth or Dare all this time, and you wanted to play bloody I Spy?

Aziraphale gave him an amused, closed-lip smile and raised one of his eyebrows mischievously, but said nothing in response. What a bastard._ Well, _thought the demon, feeling the weight that had been sitting oppressively in his chest for the past minutes fade away for good,_ at least he isn’t mad at me anymore. Thank Someone._

In fact, Aziraphale was so not-mad at him that he was still casually caressing his arm, on a gentle, soothing motion. It felt nice. More than nice. In fact, some better words to describe the feeling would be “delightful”, “sublime” or “heavenly” (except for the fact that Heaven was actually really crappy and touch-starved, but the human who had invented said adjective didn’t know that). Crowley could really get used to this, to these casual and intimate touches, if the angel wanted to keep giving them. Maybe one day he wouldn’t get completely flustered by them, like a complete buffoon.

If he could have these small things, this sort of little indulgences, for the rest of eternity, he would live it as a happy demon.

-So, can I take that as a “yes” to my invitation? – asked Aziraphale, cheekily, with no indication that he planned on letting go of his arm anytime soon.

\- Sure, why not? – replied the demon, feeling quite bold due to the sudden surge of relief on his body. – Someone knows I’d never pass up on any chance to mess up with you. Don’t you know that you should never play Truth or Dare with a demon, angel?

\- They didn’t teach me that in Heaven, no, I’m afraid. – answered the angel, glad to see that his beloved was in a playful, relaxed mood again. It always pained his heart greatly to see his counterpart hurting, especially because of him. He reluctantly let go of his arm, feeling the loss immediately, but contenting himself with the fact that he would be getting a lot more of contact soon enough. - Do you perhaps want to go first?

\- Okay, I guess. – Crowley accepted the offer, with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to not miss the angel’s warm touch as much as he did. The Bentley thought it was an appropriate moment to start blasting_ Beethoven’s 5th Symphony _on its speakers, as if trying to set up a suspenseful, expectant mood. Crowley quirked an eyebrow at that, but since it wasn’t anything as outrageous as its previous stunts, decided to allow it. – Truth or dare, angel?

\- Truth.

\- Ah. I kinda need you to say “dare”, because I only have an idea for a dare.

\- Then what is the point in asking? – inquired the angel, gesticulating his arms questioningly.

\- C’mon, angel. Do me a solid. – pleaded the demon, with a soft pout that he would, for the rest of his life, deny having done.

\- … Fine. Dare. – conceded Aziraphale, with an exasperated roll of his eyes. – But you should better make it good.

\- I dare you to curse. – Crowley provoked, raising his eyebrows. – To break that goody-two-shoes persona of yours. Give me a good old swear, angel.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the dare, with a non-impressed look on his eyes, as if saying “Really, my dear?”; the same expression he would wear whenever he tried a new dessert and it proved itself to not be worth his time or the space on his stomach. – Truth or dare?

-You didn’t-

\- Truth or dare, dearest? – pressed the angel, his 6000-year-old knowledge of his counterpart telling him that he would pick “Dare”.

-…Dare, of course.

\- I dare you to take off your **fucking** sunglasses, would you kindly? – challenged the angel, with a smug smile from having successfully predicted his beloved’s choice, while also taking the opportunity to slip in the swear that he had been prompted to say. Although he wasn’t a big fan of using curse words, since they didn’t go well with his more refined way of speaking, he had no qualms about speaking them on needed occasions, such as 1) being on the verge of discorporation, or 2) being challenged by his best friend to do so.

Said best friend was staring back at him in noticeable surprise, both at the curse word, thrown so casually, and at the chosen dare itself. Suddenly, the angel realized that the way he had spoken might have been too forceful, and he rushed to correct himself: – I mean, only if you want to, of course. I don’t intend on forcing you to do it, I would never, it’s just… there’s no need for you to hide when it’s just the two of us.

Aziraphale was trying really hard to be indirect about it, but Crowley could clearly hear the _“I don’t want there to be any barriers between us”_ unsaid on his words. And Go-Sat-_Someone,_ wasn’t that a request and a half. For him to forfeit his shield, the last line of defense of his emotions that insisted on bleeding through his eyes. For him to let his feelings be shown, to let his blatant and unapologetic love for the angel be all in the open, for the world, for him to see. His sunglasses weren’t merely for hiding his non-humanoid eyes, after all.

He wasn’t one to deny Aziraphale’s requests, though; if the angel told him to jump, he would only ask “How high?”. He knew it was a lost battle from the moment the words had left the angel’s lips.

\- It’s just, I always thought that you didn’t like to look at them? – he tried one last-ditch-effort, with the conviction of an army at their last stand that it would work. –Since they are a reminder of my demonic nature, and you know… – he gesticulated between them – angel, demon, hereditary enemies and all that crap?

\- Oh, quite the contrary, dearest. – countered the angel, with a soft, earnest smile. – I find them quite pleasing to look at. They are very unique. And they are **you**, your demonic nature is part of you, and I wouldn’t want to change or hide any of that. Would you let me… – he moved his hands slowly towards the sunglasses, waiting for permission to go through with it. Crowley nodded subtly, and the angel proceeded on taking them off.

\- There they are. – he whispered softly, finding himself mesmerized by them as he always did, whenever he was privy to them. _Beautiful. _He held the sunglasses close to his chest, in an effort to contain his impulse to reach out and caress the rims of the demon’s eyes in adoration.

Contrary to popular belief, Crowley didn’t actually hate his eyes or anything of the sort. He actually liked them, found their golden hue quite beautiful, not to mention the fact that they made him unique, one of a kind. The only thing he disliked in regards to his serpentine eyes was the inconveniences that came with living on Earth with them. But he would never, not even in his wildest dreams, think that the angel would find them endearing. That he would get lost in them like that, looking into his eyes with such veneration. It made all of the times he had been shunned, attacked or even almost discorporated because of them1, over the years, worth it.

Suddenly, a new song started playing through the speakers:

_Your beautiful eyes_  
_Stare right into my eyes_  
_ And sometimes_  
_ I think of you late at night_  
_ I don't know why_

_I want to be somewhere_  
_Where you are_  
_ I want to be where_

\- Oi! – chided the demon, disappointed but not surprised at the car’s behavior – I told you to behave! – he snapped his fingers and miracled CD player away once more. – I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, and you do this? Unforgivable. Sorry about that, angel, – he risked a glance at his counterpart, whose cheeks were faintly painted with pink – truth or dare?

\- Truth. – answered Aziraphale, while hanging the sunglasses still on his hands on the collar of Crowley’s shirt – But you didn’t need to do that, I was perfectly enjoying the music.

\- Yea, alright. I bet you were. – answered the demon, sarcastically, while tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, trying to think of a question to ask. Of course Aziraphale would only say “Truth” and ruin his chances of messing up with him with the arsenal of dares his demonic brain had conjured up on the small amount of time since the game started. So predictable. – Huuuuh, I dunno, tell me something that I don’t know about you.

\- Hm, that’s a hard one, dearest. – replied the angel, raising a finger to his lips on a contemplative stance. – I don’t think there is anything important left about me that you don’t know. – that brought a happy smile to his lips, the thought that there was someone who knew all the best and worst parts of him and still loved him nonetheless. – Unless… have I ever told you that I lied to the Almighty about my flaming sword?

\- You **what**? – asked the demon, on a perfect imitation of himself, six thousand years before, upon hearing the same angel say that he gave away the same flaming sword in question. – You told me that She had never mentioned it again!

\- Hum… – Aziraphale hesitated, suddenly very interested in playing with his fingers. – I mean, shortly after our first meeting, She asked me where was the flaming sword She had given me, and I… I may have told Her that I had misplaced it, somehow.

\- Angel! – exclaimed Crowley, his expression lighting up like the most brilliant star on the universe; he felt himself falling in love all over again with his angel. – That is the most badass thing I’ve ever heard! And you walked away without a smiting? Holy shit, you are amazing.

\- D-Do you really think so? – the angel asked, blushing lightly at the encouraging compliments; Crowley’s opinion of him meant more to him than anyone else’s. – I have always felt terribly guilty about it.

\- Of course I do! – he answered reassuringly, finding his angel’s bashfulness really endearing. – I mean, you do realize that She knew all along that you had given away the sword, right? Omniscience and all that crap. She just asked to mess with you and make you feel guilty because She’s a sadistic jerk.

\- Crowley!

\- What? I’m a demon, I’m allowed to blaspheme. – he countered, taking advantage of his lack of sunglasses to very explicitly roll his eyes at the angel – What is She gonna do to me, punish me for calling Her on Her bullshit? Oh, wait… Been there, done that.

\- Still… you should not say such things. – chastised the angel, although his resolve was weaker than usual this time. – It would not do well to draw Her attention to you, to us.

\- What attention? – the demon retorted, almost in a snappish matter, as Aziraphale touched on a sore spot of his – God has left the building a long time ago, angel. She doesn’t give a fuck about any of us, not anymore. _Probably never did._

Aziraphale didn’t have any comeback to that, and, even if he did, he wouldn’t say it. The absence of God and Her deafening silence as of late had also hurt him, although not nearly as much as it hurt Crowley. He decided that a change of topic might be the best course of action. - Truth or dare?

\- Dare, ‘course.

\- I dare you to bring the CD player back and not miracle it away again for the rest of our ride. – dared the angel, much to Crowley’s dismay and surprise – And stop being so mean to your car! She’s just trying to help, and you are treating her so poorly! – that earned him a soft honk as a “thank you”. Aziraphale smiled softly at it, in response.

The wave of shock that befell the demon at those words would have been enough to knock his sunglasses down his nose, if he still were wearing them – Help? **Help? – **he snarled, outraged by both the angel’s dare and accusation **-** Are you serious, Aziraphale? Are you really taking her side? Oh, that’s rich. – he laughed, sardonically, gesticulating wildly with his hands – Betrayed by both my best friend and my car. Even Hell would treat me better than this.

Still feeling affronted by the angel’s words and by the sudden team-up of his most beloved beings against him, he snapped his fingers and the CD player came back to its rightful place once more. Meanwhile, the angel and the car both silently wondered why exactly did they love such a drama queen. – Truth or dare? – he asked, before the Bentley decided to play something else.

\- Truth.

\- C’mon, angel. – he complained, tilting his head slightly to the side with a (not) pout – I have a list of excellent dares to mess up with you, and you’re ruining everything by always choosing “Truth”. The fun part of Truth or Dare is the dares, to see who can manage to screw over the other person more! Why must suck all of the fun out it and turn it into a bloody interrogation?

\- It’s not an interrogation! – countered the angel, slightly annoyed at the demon’s insistence on treating this as an actual game, and not as the sort of set up for his confession, as he had secretly planned to. _Crowley, please, I’m trying to do something here, for both of us. Can you **please** cooperate with me, for the love of Someone?_ – Think of it as sort of an… an opportunity! I mean, isn’t there anything that you have always wanted to ask me? – that managed to earn the demon’s attention, who tilted his head once more and lowered his gaze contemplatively, in response – I swear on my Grace that I will tell the truth to whatever you ask me.

_Something I’ve always wanted to ask you, huh?_

Asking Crowley if he has any questions is like asking the Sun if it is hot. He was probably the first being in Creation to question things, after all; he had fucking **Fallen** for questioning things too much, and doesn’t seem like he has properly learned his lesson. Therefore, of course there were more than a few things that Crowley wanted to ask Aziraphale, ever since, well, forever. Literally forever, since the first question dated back to the first day they met.

Most of the questions, however, he would never dare to ask him. They were too high-risk, too direct, diving too much into the uncharted and unnamed territory between them. After a literal free-fall into a pool of boiling sulfur for simply asking “why this” and “why that” a few times, you start to get a little wary of opening your mouth to ask stuff.

He had repressed these questions so badly that even if he wanted to ask them, his vocal chords wouldn’t dare to form things like _“Am I enough for you, is what we have enough for you?”_ or _“Can I go just a little faster now that everyone knows about us anyway?” _or even, the most pressing one on his mind lately, ever since the Aziraphale had kissed him so softly in his cheek and turned his world upside down:_“What in the name of Heaven and Hell do you want from me?”._

So yeah, not happening, any of these ones. But there were a few other, lower-risk ones, that just perhaps wouldn’t result in a free-fall into the pits of rejection. And there **was **a certain question on his mind, something that had been consuming his thoughts every once in a while for the whole week since the Armaggedidn’t. Might as well ask it now, right?

He turned his gaze towards the window, not wanting Aziraphale to see the vulnerability on his eyes when he asked it; he missed his sunglasses more than ever: – Why did you hold my hand, back on the bus?

Aziraphale blinked, surprised by how easy it had been to convince him to play by his rules. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted, for Crowley to open himself up, for him to voice anything that was on his mind, any doubts that he had, so that they could talk about it. And what an excellent question, to start this off with!

– Because I wanted to, and at that time I could do it without fearing that anyone would punish you or me because of it. – he confessed, feeling quite giddy all of a sudden at the memory of Crowley’s hand touching his. He started playing with his hands, in an effort to contain his impulse to reach out and take the demon’s hand on his own once more. – And because I was terrified that if I didn’t do it then, I never would be able to do it.

The answer, although it brought a pleasant warmth to his chest, wasn’t anything unfamiliar for the demon. Aziraphale’s feelings about the matter pretty much mirrored his own, except for the fact that he had had never put much stock in Heaven and Hell’s retribution. He had always thought that if after a lifetime of “fraternization”, they hadn’t been caught yet, they never would be. Moving their relationship to another level would not have been a problem, he was sure of it.

(The Armaggedidn’t and the events leading up to it had technically proven him wrong, but that whole affair was an outlier and it should not be counted.)

However, as familiar as that answer had been, it opened up a new possibility. **Want**. Aziraphale said he had **wanted** to hold his hand back then, and had seemingly wanted to for a while now. He hadn’t held his hand as a means to get a semblance of comfort, on what he thought would be his last hours before his execution, or anything of the sort, like Crowley had assumed2. No, it was about desire. A long-lasting one, apparently. Would it be too far off to think that he would want to do it another time…?

Crowley turned his gaze towards him once more, anxiety written all over his uncovered eyes, but there was a chunk of determination on them as well. His hands twitched on the steering wheel, betraying his nervousness and his instinct to reach out and grab the angel’s hand.

-Would you, perhaps…. be willing to do it again… sometime? – Satan, he hated how weak and insecure his voice sounded. How pathetic. He was a demon, for Someone’s sake; a bloody **tempter**. He should be able to do this pretty smoothly, or at the very least, be able to not stammer like a spineless moron. Fuck Aziraphale and his ability to reduce him to an anxious mess whenever he dared to go beyond friendly interactions.

Aziraphale’s whole expression lighted up like a Christmas tree at the thinly-veiled request, ecstatic by the demon’s forwardness, even though he was still hesitant. – Certainly, I would, dearest. In fact…– he flexed his right hand, expectantly. – Truth or dare?

\- Dare. – he answered, and it was quite a big feat that he managed to keep his voice steady since he knew exactly what was about to come out of his counterpart’s mouth.

\- Hold my hand. – the angel said softly, almost in a whisper, immediately offering his right hand with no hesitation. Crowley stared at it for a second, feeling a sudden wave of fondness on his chest at the angel’s eagerness, before quickly snatching up said hand with his left one, before Aziraphale could change his mind. He even gripped it a little harder than necessary, just for good measure.

It was a pretty chaste hold at first, the kind of handhold you would find in two strangers holding hands on a protest, or anything of the sort. The most impersonal way of holding hands, with just enough contact to be classified as a handhold. Slowly but surely though, both of them began to move their fingers, angling them into an interlocking stance, until they were properly holding hands in the way they both wanted to.

Their hands fit more perfectly than a key would fit in its designed lock, matching as if they were meant to be together instead of apart. Crowley’s slim and bony fingers found their perfect match on Aziraphale’s soft and plump ones. It was a perfectly balanced hold, not too strong and forceful, yet not too slack and dispassionate. It felt like coming home after being away from it all your life.

Following the example of their hands, their gazes met each other once more, after having deliberately avoided one another during the whole process. Anxious and lovesick golden eyes met fond and euphoric blue ones, and both of them couldn’t stop the overjoyed smiles that split their faces, feeling so happy to just be at each other’s company. To just be able to hold the other’s hand.

-Well, don’t complain if I end up crashing the car, ‘cause I only have one hand on the wheel. – Crowley joked, in an effort to calm his screaming nerves, otherwise, he would probably end up discorporating from a heart attack. _Aziraphale. Is Holding. My hand. Willingly. He wanted to. Asked me to. Holy shit. C’mon, Crowley. Don’t. Fuck. This.Up._ His flustered attempt at a joke was rewarded with the sweetest, purest laughter, which only made his smile grow wider.

\- Oh, that is a risk I am willing to take, my dearest. – replied Aziraphale, caressing gently the back of Crowley’s hand with his thumb, while trying really hard as well to keep himself together. He was holding Crowley’s hand again! And he wouldn’t have to worry about an expiration date! He could have this forever if both of them wanted to! It was almost too much for his poor corporation to take.

As if on cue, the Bentley started playing another song on its speakers:

_I'm burning in Hell, but I'm already in Heaven  
I'm going to war and I've chosen my weapon_

_Will you hold my hand when you know I'm a sinner?_  
_Bless my soul, even though I'm a sinner_  
_ Hold my hand_  
_ Hold my hand_  
_ Will you hold my hand when you know I'm a sinner?_  
_ Bless my soul, when you know I'm a sinner_  
_ Hold my hand_  
_ Hold my hand_

-Oh wow, could you be just a bit more on the nose? – ironized the demon, too intoxicated with happiness to be properly outraged by the provocation. – Like, it’s not entirely clear what you’re trying to do here. And where the Heaven did you learn all these songs, by the way? I never listened to any of this3. – he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow, genuinely confused, before turning his attention towards his counterpart once more: - Truth or dare, angel?

\- Truth.

Crowley pondered for a few seconds, before gathering most of his courage to finally ask The Question. Not the Big One, of course, but The Question that had plagued his mind ever since Day 1 of their relationship. It was only about 6000 years overdue: - Why did you shelter me from the rain, back in Eden? – he tightened his grip on the handhold a little, almost afraid that his question would drive the angel’s hand away from his. Aziraphale squeezed back, reassuringly. – I mean, there was I, a demon, your hereditary enemy and all that stuff. And you had just met me, so you hadn’t been exposed to enough of me yet to learn how to at least tolerate me, so… why?

\- Oh, I really was not expecting this one. – admitted the angel, raising a finger to his lips, as he mulled over the question. - I really don’t know, I just felt like I had to, as if by instinct, you know? I was doing it before I even knew. However, thinking about it in hindsight, I believe I did as a way to convey my gratitude to you. – his remembrance of the moment triggered a dreamy smile on his lips, as the memory of their first encounter as a whole emerged on his mind. It was one of his most cherished memories. After all, it was the day he had met the love of his life. – For being kind to me. For reassuring me when I was afraid I had done something wrong.

\- I wasn’t being kind when I said that, I was being sarcastic, dumbass. – corrected the demon, but he had a tender smile on his lips as well. How could he not, since he was delving into one of his favorite memories, held more dear to him than anything from his time as an angel. After all, it’s not every day that you meet the absolute love of your life, only to fall in love with them after only a few minutes.

\- Still, you didn’t judge me for giving away my sword. You were the only one who didn’t think that I had done something wrong. And you were the first being to ever express kindness to me, even if it wasn’t your real intent. – he replied, with a soft sigh, feeling more love for his counterpart than it ought to be possible. – So, I guess it was my way of saying “thank you”.

\- Huh. Didn’t expect that. You are such a sap, angel. – Crowley teased while daring to stroke his angel’s hand with his thumb as a way to convey his real feelings in regards to what he had said; feelings he didn’t dare to voice yet.

\- I suppose I really am. – admitted the angel, still feeling a little lovesick from his dip in the memory land. He did catch up on the demon’s true feelings, however, and smiled happily at that. – Truth or dare?

\- Dare.

\- Actually, dearest, I need you to say “Truth” this time. – he requested, with a barely concealed smug smile on his lips. – I actually have a question that I want to ask you. And, since you owe me one from earlier, you can’t refuse my request.

_Oh, fuck._

Now, at this point, you might think that the reason why Crowley only chooses “Dare” is because he finds it more entertaining to play this game this way, as he himself had said. And, well, you would be right to think that. Only not completely right.

There was a second layer, a second reason, hidden beneath that most superficial one: he was worried that he would give himself away as he answered something or, instead, that Aziraphale would ask him something that he wouldn’t know how to answer without revealing everything that he shouldn’t. Both outcomes would inevitably fuck everything up.

Dares were way much easier.

-… Truth. – he conceded, preparing himself silently for the worst.

\- What in the world possessed you to climb up that wall and talk to me? – wondered the angel, confused by the demon’s sudden tense up. – Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful that you did, but…you know, I’m an angel. Weren’t you scared that I would attack you, or even smite you?

Now, there were two ways that Crowley could answer that question. He could go for a half-truth, not entirely a lie, not entirely a truth either: “I dunno, I was bored and you were the only being on a thousand-mile radius that I could talk to since, y’know, I don’t think that our dear Eve and Adam would be very happy to see me at that moment.”. That would be safe, recommended by 10 out of 10 experts in the matter of pining for your best friend.

Or...

Or he could tell the whole truth, which would be that he had been drawn to him, the most beautiful thing in all of Eden, like a moth to a flame, from the first moment that he had laid eyes on him, standing up there at the Wall, in all his angelic glory. Even at the risk of discorporation or being smitten, he **had** to at least try to talk to him. It had been some sort of fascination at first sight, which had evolved into a crush a few lines of dialogue later.

He risked a glance towards their joined hands, then at Aziraphale’s soft and open expression. They were already this deep into whatever this was, what was another silly thing like admitting your infatuation at first sight? In for a penny, in for a pound, it’s what they say. Besides, if everything went to Heaven, he could always joke his way out, pretend that he was merely pulling his leg.

\- Maybe I sssssaw a beautiful angel up there and wanted to ssssstrike a converssssation with him. – Fucking hell, he was **flirting** with **Aziraphale**. Walking on a tightrope over a pool of Holy Water would be less risky. His grip on the angel’s hand grew impossibly tighter. - Y’know, do ssssome…. tempting. Sssssince, you know, demonsssss are ssssuposed to try to tempt angelsssss. And if I got to talk to ssssuch a beautiful angel asss well, well… it’s jussst killing two birdsss with one ssstone.

Aziraphale blinked once, twice, before the words really settled into his mind, making him blush like a recently harvested rose. This was something he had no previous experience with, and therefore, no built-in resistance to: Crowley openly flirting with him, with actual words. Blatantly calling him **beautiful** and everything. To make matters worse, the Bentley once more decided to showcase its vast musical expertise:

_And there it goes,_  
_I think I found my best friend_  
_ I know that it might sound_  
_ More than a little crazy_  
_ But I believe_

_I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_I think I dreamed you into life_  
_ I knew I loved you before I met you_  
_ I have been waiting all my life_

\- Ssshut up! – hissed the demon, almost inaudibly, feeling on the absolute edge of a panic attack. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m a fucking moron, why did I ever think this would work_. He kept pressing the power button exhaustively, but to no avail. – Ssshut up, you piece of crap. You’re going to ruin everything! Fuck!

The song snapped Aziraphale out of his flustered state, although his red cheeks didn’t fade away for quite some time. He instantly realized the distress his beloved was in (the fact that his fingers were losing sensibility due to being clutched too tightly was a big clue, for starters), thinking that his flirtation had been unrequited. That certainly wouldn’t do.

\- Oh, is that so? – he started, actually feeling pretty shaken himself on the inside (_Goodness, I am actually **flirting** with him, explicitly, all out in the open. Oh dear_.), but he had to appear calm and collected for his counterpart, to reassure him. - Well, I admit that I was indeed rather tempted. After all, it’s not every day that a beautiful demon comes up and starts talking so smoothly and charmingly to you; I was just a simple angel, after all.

Aziraphale’s reaction had been quite intense, but it didn’t hold a candle to Crowley’s reaction at being flirted. His cheeks burned red, so hotly, that you could probably see a bit of smoke coming out of his face if you squinted real hard. In his defense, he had been utterly unprepared for this. After all, he had expected Aziraphale to, at best, laugh awkwardly and, in that sweet, polite way of his, pretend that it never happened.

Not to fucking flirt back. Not to fucking call him **beautiful**.

Oh, Someone, Aziraphale thought he was beautiful.

The effect that the compliment and the reciprocation of his advance had on his confidence was immeasurable. It made all of his awkwardness and insecurity vanish as if by one of Aziraphale’s stupid magic tricks, leaving only his predisposition to seduce and charm other people; he **was** a tempter, after all. It was in his demonic nature.

\- Yes, quite right. – he replied, in his most seductive tone, leaning over towards his angel. – Just an innocent angel, being all alone in the garden with such a wily serpent like me. – he raised his eyebrows, in a provocative manner. –You stood no chance, let’s be honest.

\- Don’t be so certain about that, you foul fiend. – replied Aziraphale, trying really hard to keep himself from grinning madly with happiness, lest it would ruin all of this little roleplay. Instead, he settled on a suggestive look on his eyes, leaning over towards his counterpart as well. – You may have presented a tough challenge, but I am an angel of the Lord. I would not succumb to your unholy temptations that easily.

\- Is that so? – Crowley asked, biting his lip seductively, also in an effort to contain his grin.

\- Of course. – Aziraphale answered, raising his eyebrows provocatively.

They kept staring at each other with their most seductive looks, both unwilling to be the first to back down. After a few seconds, the ridiculousness of the situation became too much for both of them to handle, and they exploded into the purest, most wholesome laughter. It was so ridiculous, for such millennial beings like them, with the history they had, to flirt like teenagers with their first crush. Probably even worse than that, to be quite frank.

To be fair, neither of them had ever actually learned to flirt, since the only person either of them would ever be willing to flirt with had been out of reach until last week. Up until the Armageddidn’t, the best they were able to have was some indirect and ambiguous suggestions, some veiled indications of something beyond friendship. But now? Now they could blatantly flirt as much and as badly as they wanted, and it was so refreshing and freeing that they couldn’t help but burst out into laughter.

\- Satan, we’re such morons, aren’t we? – the demon wondered, with actual tears of laughter on his eyes, still trying to catch his breath.

\- Maybe we are, but we are still smarter than Heaven and Hell. – replied the angel, on a smug tone, although his mirth hadn’t completely faded yet. – So what does that say about them?

_ Are we, really…? _

Aziraphale had touched on another sore spot for the demon, sobering him up from all of his previous cheerfulness instantly. There they were, all happy and dandy, holding hands and flirting like idiots, and fucking selectively ignoring the fact that they had pissed off royally the two most powerful institutions of all of Creation, both of which were far from done with them yet.

If Heaven and Hell had only one thing in common (in reality, they were actually more like birds of a feather than they would ever begin to admit, but I digress), it would be that they were patient. They could keep a grudge for centuries, millennia even, if they needed to. And they **never** left their matters open, without putting a definite close to them.

Especially not the matter of the two biggest traitors in their respective histories, the double-crossing scum who had dared to avert the Biggest, Most Important Event of their existences, and, to make matters worse, managed to make them look like fools who can’t even execute their deserters right. They would figure out a new way to kill angels and demons and come for them eventually, Crowley had no doubts about it. The bodyswap had been merely a temporary solution, a palliative measure that would earn them a bit of time. Maybe a few centuries, if they were lucky. Maybe a few days, if they were not.

And, if his hunch was right, they could strike Armaggedon 2.0 at any time: it could be in a few hours, when they would be at their picnic, having the time of their lives, when suddenly a horde of furious angels and demons, still steaming for their denied, would strike and kill both of them before they had even the chance to fight back.

And, for once, he had no plan. No brilliant scheme that would gloriously save their lives and the whole world, for good this time. No backup measure, if everything went to Heaven, that would allow them to escape into another planet or star or literally anywhere in the whole, big universe (He could only hope that Aziraphale would be more inclined to accept his offer this time, if he could ever come up with something). No way to protect the person he loved more than his life.

And it fucking terrified Crowley.

\- Aren’t you scared, angel? – he asked, astonished by the carefree way in which Aziraphale talked about their ex-Head Offices. He would kill every last angel and demon to keep that carefreeness in him, to keep him lighthearted and happy like this forever. – I mean, you’re going to say “Truth” anyway, so I might as well ask it already.

\- Scared of what, my dearest? – Aziraphale questioned, rubbing circles on the back of the demon’s hand, soothingly.

\- Of them. Heaven and Hell. Our dear old pals, who we stabbed in the back and got away with it while laughing at their faces. – he answered, trying to joke about it in an effort to ignore the feeling of dread weighing down on his chest. – You know that our little shows were not the end of it, right?

\- I… I try not to think about it very often… - confessed Aziraphale, dejectedly, clutching his beloved’s hand a bit more tightly, as if afraid he wouldn’t be able to do so in the near future. – But whenever I do think about that, I… I am seriously terrified. I’m scared that… that they are going to use us against one another. – he pulled their joined hands towards his chest, against his heart, that was beating wildly with anxiety at the mere thought of said possibility. – I mean, if either side captured you, I would be at their hands, completely.

Crowley almost blessed himself for bringing up the topic, at the sight of his angel literally deflating in front of eyes at his words. The last thing he ever wanted was to make his angel sad, but they **had** to talk about this, eventually. He wasn’t managing to think of something on his own this time, so he needed Aziraphale’s help, or, at the very least, needed to tell him to be ready for whatever happened. And a game like Truth or Dare was as auspicious as an opportunity as he was ever going to get.

He didn’t miss the subtle declaration of the angel’s affection for him, though. As much as it warmed his cold, demonic heart to hear that Aziraphale cared so much for him, it also only served to fuel his dread like gasoline to a fire. He would rather die than become a liability to Aziraphale, become a hostage for Heaven and Hell play with his angel as if he were a puppet. Fuck no. 

\- Yea, tell me about it. – the demon agreed, with a heavy sigh, feeling each and every one of his six thousand years of existence weighing down on him. – I’ve been having nightmares4 about that all week. And, huh, yeah, same. – he scratched his nape with his free hand, feeling really nervous for exposing his feelings like this, especially without his sunglasses to shield his vulnerability – I’d be completely screwed as well if they got you. – he let out a dry, humorless chuckle – We really showed them our hands, huh?

\- I am quite afraid so, dearest. – the angel agreed, with a soft sigh, but gave his counterpart a small smile, for moral support, before lowering their hands once more; he didn’t want Crowley to start feeling uncomfortable for stretching his arm for too long.

\- Next time I’m gonna pretend that, I don’t know, fucking Shadwell is my best friend. – he joked, trying to get a laugh out of the angel. Anything to wipe out that sadness out of those blue eyes, before he felt even more guilty. – I’d like to see them try to use **that** against me.

Aziraphale giggled softly at that, the image of said hilarious scenario playing out on his mind. Said laughter was like a soothing balm to Crowley’s ears, just like it always was. Satan, he loved his angel so much. And he could lose him, he could lose everything, just like that, on a snap of fingers. One misplaced drop of Hellfire and there it goes, Crowley’s whole world.

Fuck, wasn’t that a bloody dumpster fire.

\- We’re **fucked**, angel. – he declared, letting out the despair that he had contained for so long, unable to keep it to himself for any longer. He scratched his head with his free hand, nervously, fully letting the Bentley take over the driving once more. – We’ve got **nothing**, we’re just two random deserters against the entirety of Heaven and Hell. – he exhaled heavily, giving his counterpart a sad smile, caressing his hand slightly. Both his self-loathing and his pessimism were reaching peak capacity, fueled by his feeling of uselessness. – Guess I dragged you into the losing side, huh? Sorry about that.

\- Don’t say that! – chastised the angel, exasperated by his beloved’s sudden defeatism; he gripped his hand harder, as to give more weight to his words. – First of all, you didn’t drag me into anything, I deserted Heaven on my own volition. You were just kind enough to give me a side again. – he caressed his hand, trying to convey his gratitude. – And don’t give up already! We can do something, I’m sure of it!

-My angel, ever the optimist. – murmured the demon, smiling lightly at the angel’s encouragement, but the light didn’t reach his serpentine eyes. – There’s nothing we can do, angel. Not this time. I mean, I’m good, but even I can’t protect you from 20 million angels and demons out for our blood.

Aziraphale blinked in quick-fire succession, confused. – Protect me? – he asked, feeling a wave of outrageousness rising up on his body. – Crowley, don’t be absurd. I don’t need you to protect me, I am not a bloody damsel in distress!

\- I know, angel. – Crowley quickly agreed, scared by the waves of fury coming off from Aziraphale. It was never good to invoke an Angel’s Wrath. – I know that you’re probably even stronger than I am, since you were actually created to be a soldier, and I… wasn’t. – he paused for a second, reminiscing bittersweetly about his time in Heaven, so long ago. Crowley’s main role as an angel had been to create stars, and so, he wasn’t much of a fighter himself, differently from Aziraphale, who had been issued a flaming sword and everything. Technically all angels were soldiers, but some were more warriors than others. – But I won’t ask you to kill. Not again. I asked you once, because I was desperate, and I saw how it tore you apart to even think about it. I won’t have that.

\- You don’t need to ask me to, dearest. – Aziraphale countered, softening instantly at the demon’s explanation, feeling the rage turn into protectiveness. – Yes, I would rather not have to kill anyone. I never really wanted to be a soldier, I never wanted to fight. But, if I have to, to protect what I care about? I wouldn’t hesitate. I… I almost killed Adam, remember? If it hadn’t been for Madam Tracy, I… I really would have shot him. – he shivered slightly at the memory; it had been a dark moment for him, one of his lowest points. That whole day had been terrible, to be quite honest. – Besides, I’m the one who is supposed to protect you; after all, I **am** a Principality. I was literally made to protect. And I will.

\- I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m pretty sure that your job description is to protect humans, not demons. – Crowley pointed out sardonically, because irony and sarcasm were always his go-to whenever he felt out of his depth. And this, Aziraphale declaring such protectiveness over him? It was so out of his depth that he couldn’t even see the bottom on which he was standing; it felt like he was drowning.

\- But our side, we are on humanity’s side, aren’t we? So, technically, you are part of humanity as well now. – the angel declared with a cheeky smile, too satisfied with himself for having come up with that retort. – You might even be my special charge.

\- Oh wow, from Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden to Guardian Angel of a demon. I’ve never seen someone be demoted so badly. – he joked once more, pretending really, really, **really** hard that the angel’s words had not reached inside him and pulled fiercely at his heartstrings as if they were mere guitar strings, playing a tooth-rottingly sweet song inside him.

\- Quite the contrary, dearest. I don’t think there’s anyone else in all of Creation I would want to protect more. – countered the angel with a happy sigh, feeling the rush of finally speaking such declarations of love after violently repressing them for so long. It felt so good, so liberating, to be able to say all the things he had for so long desperately wanted to give voice to, but always ended up biting his tongue out of fear for their lives.

While Aziraphale was sighing contently at his lovesick bubble, Crowley was arduously trying to keep himself from pinching himself, hitting his head against the wheel, or do anything else that would give him a reality check. No way in Heaven, Hell, or Earth this was actually happening. This, all of it, was **way** too good to be truth. This had to be a dream. Or a joke. A prank, like in those stupid human TV shows. Any minute now, Hastur and Dagon would pop out and reveal the whole farse, laughing their asses off at him for falling for this trick. Or worse, it would be fucking Gabriel and his stupid smug smiling face, saying “_Did you really think that an **angel **would ever stoop so low as to actually love you?”_.

He was a **demon**, for Someone’s sake. Demons don’t get to have nice things like that, don’t get to have the love of their lives suddenly being all loving and affectionate with them, holding their hands and flirting with them and promising to protect them, whatever it takes. Demons only get to have their hearts broken and stomped on, only get to burn to the ashes with unrequited desire and love. Damnation isn’t just a nine-letter-word, it’s a life sentence.

\- So, you really don’t regret this? – he muttered weakly, before he could stop himself. Goddamn, I mean, Satan bless his pathetic insecurity and the apparent sudden lack of filter between his brain and mouth. - I mean, if Heaven theoretically decided to give you a second chance, you would really tell them to fuck off?

\- Regret this? – questioned Aziraphale, utterly astounded and even hurt that his counterpart would even entertain the thought of something like that. – Heavens, no! Why would you ever think that? And why would I ever want to go back to Heaven? Everything that I ever loved is down here, on Earth: books, food, humans, music… **you**. – the angel averted his gaze bashfully towards his lap at the last word, blushing slightly at his subtle and indirect declaration of his love. He was supposed to wait until the picnic, but he absolutely could not have his beloved doubting his commitment to him for any longer.

He risked a quick glance towards the demon after a few seconds, to gauge his reaction to hearing the L-word in regards to him. What he saw almost shattered his heart into tiny pieces.

Crowley had turned his head towards the window to his side, in an undisguised effort to not look at him. His whole body posture had grown tense, but the grip on their joined hands had severely slackened, and it was practically only up to the angel to keep the handhold.

-Hm. – was everything he responded his ardent declaration with.

Aziraphale almost broke out on a cold sweat at that, all of his confidence going down the drain. He started rambling, trying not to feel the sting of rejection as much as he did. Maybe if he kept talking, kept professing his devotion, his beloved would respond to it better…? – Besides, that would leave our side severely short-handed, wouldn’t it? I wouldn’t abandon you like that, the last thing I want is to lose you. – he pulled their joined hands to his chest, in a desperate attempt to get his attention. – Whatever happens, I just want to be with you.

-Hm. – Crowley replied, once more, with a monosyllabic grunt.

Aziraphale thought he knew of rejection; after all, his own kin, his own side, had abandoned him, cast him aside as if he were nothing (to be fair, he had deserted them first, but that’s a technicality). But he didn’t. **This** was true rejection; what Heaven had done to him was a mere slap on the wrist. Being rejected by Crowley, on the other hand, was unbearable.

The Bentley, sensing the heavy aura between its two passengers, started playing a new song in an attempt to lighten the mood and distract the angel from his barely contained tears, or, at least, to get a rise out of the demon, so he would stop brooding like an idiot:

_Baby, I was afraid before  
But I'm not afraid anymore_

_Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?_  
_Ooh, heaven is a place on earth._  
_ They say in heaven love comes first_  
_ We'll make heaven a place on earth_  
_ Ooh, heaven is a place on earth_

\- Oh, Heaven surely isn’t a place on Earth, dear girl. – the angel said, with a slightly shaky voice, although he was smiling softly at the car for its attempt.– And it absolutely doesn’t put love first. Isn’t that so, Crowley?

\- Hm. – replied the demon, grunting succinctly, a third time.

Third time really is the charm, as they say. Enough of a charm to be a breaking point.

\- Crowley, please, talk to me, please don’t shut me out like that. – Aziraphale pleaded, feeling the tears that he had tried so hard to conceal finally watering his eyes. –Whatever I did wrong, I am terribly sorry, it was never my intention to hurt you or make you mad at me, please tell me what I did so I can make it right.

The absolute _brokenness_ in his angel’s voice was finally enough to snap Crowley out of the dizzying spiral of overthinking, anxiety and self-deprecation that had consumed him for the past minutes. It hadn’t been his intention to ignore and dismiss Aziraphale’s declarations (he had heard them, but it was like hearing them behind a wall of background noise, drowned by his own dysfunctional thoughts), but he had been so caught on his paranoia that he couldn’t bring himself to do anything, waiting desperately for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the punchline.

There it was, his punchline: he made the only person that he actually gives a damn about cry. He was the joke.

-Oh, fuck. – he cursed, noticing the pinpricks of tears on his angel’s eyes. _Nice one, Crowley. Fucking congratulations. You always ruin everything that you touch, huh?_ He reached with his free hand to wipe away his counterpart’s tears with a recently-miracled handkerchief, too worried about him to be self-conscious about his actions. – It’s nothing, angel. You did nothing wrong, I swear. It’s all me. I’m sorry.

\- No, please, tell me. Talk to me. – Aziraphale insisted, with a certain tenacity on his watering eyes. He lowered their joined hands, now that he had the demon’s attention. – Clearly, it’s about something I did or said. I want to know.

\- It’s nothing, I swear, I’m just being stupid. – dismissed the demon, dropping his gaze to their still joined hands (not that he still deserved to hold Aziraphale’s hand after what he did, but he was too weak to let go as he rightfully should), unable to meet the angel’s eyes because of his guilt. – Just thinking about crap that I shouldn’t think about.

Since it didn’t seem like Crowley was going to be so kind as to reveal what in God’s name was eating away at him, the angel took it upon himself to deduce it. - You started acting like this after you asked if I would go back to Heaven. Is it about that? – Crowley remained in silence, not denying or affirming anything. The angel took it as a “yes”, his silence giving significant consent.

\- Oh, dearest… – Aziraphale sighed, feeling a tinge of guilt inside him. He started caressing the back of his counterpart’s hand, in an effort to soothe him. – I know this must sound really sudden to you, this quick change in my allegiances. I understand that it may cause you to feel unsure about my commitment to our side. However, I haven’t been truly loyal do Heaven for **years** now. – he confessed, unable to keep himself from risking a glance upwards as to confirm if there wasn’t anyone listening. Old habits die hard, much to his anger (at himself, for still caring about what Heaven thought, after everything).

Crowley didn’t say anything in response, not really trusting himself to speak and not make things worse, but he made a noise to signify that he was listening, still with his gaze downwards. Aziraphale proceeded:

\- Yes, I still believed in God and in Her Ineffable Plan, and I used to believe in Heaven’s propaganda until last week. – he admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed by that. – However, my allegiance to Heaven had been mostly out of fear, for years now. And that’s not true loyalty. That’s not nearly close to what I have with you, and have had for years now.

\- …Then what is it out of? – asked the demon after a few seconds, very reluctantly, still averting his gaze. – What you have with me, I mean.

\- Love. – Aziraphale answered instantly, almost on a deadpan tone; he was stating the obvious, after all. – It’s out of love, of course.

\- Ngh. – the demon grunted, not really knowing how to react to a second L-Word drop in only a few minutes; he had already screwed up enough for the next few decades on the previous one, after all. Should he say “haha, same”, on a nonchalant way, and let the matter drop before he said too much? – I see. Yeah. Right. Me too. Hum. _Shit, shit, shit. What the fuck am I doing_?, he screamed at himself, while turning his posture back to the steering wheel again. He hoped that driving would help him to control his nerves, clear his mind, or at least, make him focus on something else instead of the deafening sound of his own yelling thoughts.

Immediatelly after his response, he heard a surprised gasp, followed by a heavy, long sigh. Crowley’s pessimistic brain had already started interpreting it as a sigh of disappointment, signifying that he had fucked up again (what’s new, though?) before Aziraphale broke the silence once more, speaking in a tone of voice that didn’t leave much room for questioning: - Stop the car.

\- What? – he questioned, feeling as if he had been shot in the chest.

\- Stop the car, Crowley. – he repeated, on the same authoritative voice he seldom used with his beloved. Crowley finally dared to turn his gaze towards his counterpart, only to see his angel’s pale blue eyes shining with something the demon could not put a name to.

\- Wait, Aziraphale, I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to ignore you or doubt you,or anything that I did, I swear. I won’t do it anymore. – Crowley pleaded, two steps from a full-blown panic attack. He was practically begging, throwing his pride out of the window without a second thought. The only reason he could think of for Aziraphale to ask him to stop the car would be if he wanted to get out and leave, and the demon was sure that, if he let Aziraphale go, he would not see him for another few years, at best. –You don’t need to do this, I’ll drive you back if you don’t want to have the picnic anymore, I swear, I won’t even speak to you if you don’t want, just… – his voice trailed off, as the feeling of absolute desperation choked him on his throat.

The only silver lining in this whole mess was the fact that the angel hadn’t retracted his hand yet, which gave him a drop of hope that the situation was still salvageable.

Aziraphale didn’t say anything, he just stared at him with the most patient of expressions, his eyes reflecting all of the maturity and serenity he had accumulated over his 6000 years of existence. His gaze was steadfast, shining with enough determination to withstand centuries of waiting, if that’s what it took for the demon to oblige to his request. Faced with that, Crowley had no option but to obey, and so he stopped the car, parking it on the edge of the sidewalk with shaky hands and a sense of dread weighing down on his chest, like a heavy boulder, pressing him down on the inside until he could barely breathe.

The Bentley, on a desperate move, locked its own doors in an attempt to keep the angel from leaving, but it would take less than a miracle for Aziraphale to open them if he really wanted to leave. 

\- Angel, please, you don’t need to- – Crowley started again, prepared to beg on his hands and knees if he needed to. However, before he could say much, his counterpart cut him off with a simple request:

\- Kiss me.

\- …**What**?

\- You would say “Dare” anyway, so I won’t even waste time asking. – the angel answered, cupping his counterpart’s cheek with his free hand and staring directly at his golden serpentine eyes, with an encouraging smile on his lips. – I dare you to kiss me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs featured, in order of appearance:
> 
> \- Beautiful Eyes, by Taylor Swift  
\- Hold my Hand, by Lukas Graham  
\- I Knew I Loved You, by Savage Garden  
\- Heaven is a Place on Earth, by Belinda Carlisle
> 
> [1]The invention of sunglasses had been a life-saver, quite literally on his case. If not for them, he would most certainly have been discorporated quite a few times during the Middle Ages, burning at a stake due to suspicion of being a witch. It would have been quite ironic, though, if he had perished at the hands of an Inquisition he had taken credit for.
> 
> [2] He had arrived at said conclusion after a few good hours of overthinking, two or three bottles of wine and a myriad of notes and papers scattered around his living room table, filled with a bunch of ideas and hypotheses, most of them scratched out beyond recognition. 
> 
> [3] The answer, of course, was the radio. Even if Crowley didn’t have much of a costume of listening to the radio, preferring instead to listen to his Queen CDs, the CD player connected the Bentley to a whole array of radio stations, and, consequently, to all of the songs played on those. This meant that the arsenal of songs that it had on its hands was, quite frankly, enormous, almost as big as its potential to provoke its owner. 
> 
> [4] Said nightmares consisted of a chaotic mix of his trauma of the burning bookshop, his fear of being the cause of Aziraphale’s Falling, his anxiety about Heaven and Hell’s next moves, and, of course, said scenario of Aziraphale being used against him. All of the Greatest Hits, packed into a single mess of terror and pain that made him wake up on a cold sweat every other day. He was almost giving up on sleeping, but he wouldn’t give the bastards the satisfaction of taking away something that he liked to do.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3.


	5. No More Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they finally kiss and talk about their feelings, and a new world of possiblities opens up in regards to their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't believe i managed to actually finish this chapter, holy shit  
this ended up being way harder than what i expected, and i'm not 100% satisfied with it  
but there you have it  
the climax to this whole story  
they finally kiss  
the next chapter will be just an epilogue, so techinically the plot of the story ends here.
> 
> once more, thanks to everyone who left their kudos and commented, the support you guys give this story mean the world to me <3 i hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

It took a few seconds for Crowley’s brain to properly register what he had heard. More than a few seconds, if we’re to be quite honest: it was almost a full minute until the demon’s neurons stopped going on a loop of _Kiss me. Aziraphale. He asked me to kiss him. Aziraphale wants me to kiss him. Kiss him._, and all of the other variations of sentences with the same idea. It was almost as if he was trying to push the concept to its very limit, to see if there were any loopholes or any possible way that he was misinterpreting the situation.

If there had been any presence of mind left on him, any part of his brain not currently busy with the task of overthinking every single aspect of the situation at hand, he would have screamed at himself for the way his traitorous body was behaving. He would have thought he looked absolutely pathetic, with his mouth significantly agape, his eyes widened comically and his eyebrows curved upwards so highly that they almost met his hair. He was even leaning unconsciously towards the hand on his cheek, as if pulled to it by the strongest of magnets.

Aziraphale, however, didn’t think he looked pathetic, at all. In fact, he thought that such a reaction was really endearing, if not outright adorable. It did considerably rattle his nerves, though, this lack of response. If he didn’t know better, he would almost think that… that he had messed up. That he had been wrong in assuming that the demon was as much willing to kiss him as he was. Oh dear. He had swallowed hard a couple of times, squashing his cowardly impulse to say that he had been merely jesting. He would not run away, would not go back to pretending and blatantly ignoring what they really had. Crowley had waited for him for almost six thousand years; he could wait for another six thousand for him as well, if he had to.

Fortunately, it wasn’t really necessary for him to wait for that long. Not even one and a half minute after the angel had professed his dare, the demon snapped out of his overthinking daze, his golden eyes shining brightly with a perfect mix of hope and anxiousness. – Just-Just to be clear, you mean… – he asked weakly, pressing a trembling finger to his own lips in an effort to on to convey his unsaid question. He could not possibly say the words “you mean that you want me to kiss your lips?” without severely risking discorporation on the spot.

\- Yes, yes, kiss me on the lips. – Aziraphale answered, having perfectly understood his counterpart’s non-verbal communication. – I dare you to kiss me, on the lips. _Please._ – he said the last word in a pleading whisper, trying to convey all of his willingness, all of his desire, to the demon.

It was Crowley’s turn to swallow hard. So he hadn’t misunderstood, after all. Holy shit. He was going to kiss Aziraphale, he was actually going to get to kiss his angel. He briefly wondered if this was some overdue compensation from God, for fucking him over all these years. If so, he would gladly take it; Hell, he would even non-ironically pray to Her on his knees, say his thanks and everything, if that were the case. But even amidst all that bliss, his anxiety-ridden mind could not leave him alone for too long.

\- Are you… are you really… really sure about this? – he inquired, as he moved his free hand towards the angel’s chin and raised it slightly. He had to know, he had to have some guarantee that this wasn’t just a passing thing, something that Aziraphale would regret afterwards and that would inevitably fuck up everything between them in the long term. Sure, even only a single kiss would be more than a dream come true, but if it meant ruining what they had now, he would rather forego it completely.

\- Oh, my love… – the angel replied, feeling all soft and warm inside; it felt nice to know that he was not the only one feeling nervous about this, that they were both about to venture into uncharted territory together. He started caressing Crowley’s cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe his apprehension. – Yes, I am absolutely sure. I have never been surer about anything, in my entire life. I would very, very much like if you kissed me, if you are amenable to it.

The last part of Aziraphale’s reassuring speech had all but been lost to the demon, whose mind had latched onto the first part and kept repeating it, like a mantra. _My love. My **love**.** My **love. What the fuck._ Those two simple words were more than enough to crumble any resemblance of self-control within him; in the span of a second, he shut his eyes and leaned in, closing the already very small distance between their mouths, before either Aziraphale could change his mind or he could lose his courage.

At first, they didn’t dare to go any further than a chaste pressing of their lips, neither bold enough to even use their tongues to lick the other’s lips to get a better taste of them. They kept like this for a while, desperately waiting for the other to deepen the kiss, but afraid to be the one to do so and end up messing this up. Even so, only a peck on the lips like that after a lifetime of abstinence felt almost like an oasis in the middle of a desert to someone on the verge of dehydration; if this was all that they were going to get, it would be enough to keep both of them contented for the rest of eternity.

When it actually happened, neither of them could tell who made the first move. It felt more as if something suddenly snapped inside both of them and they simultaneously shoved their tongues into each other’s mouth, starving for the other’s taste and unable to wait any longer. There was a great degree of desperation in both of them, which added to their mutual inexperience in the area, made their kiss actually very sloppy and uncoordinated; their teeth clashed more than once, there was saliva flying everywhere, and neither of them actually knew what to do with their tongues, deciding to just use them to map out the other’s mouth.

It was perfect.

Aziraphale was the first to let go of their handhold, using both of his arms to wrap them around Crowley’s shoulders and pull the demon closer towards himself, feeling like there was still way too much space between them. Crowley, sensing the angel’s intention, moved himself to straddle Aziraphale’s lap without breaking the kiss or even opening his eyes. He buried both of his hands on the angel’s pale blond hair, something that he had yearned to do for so long and now felt like he was entitled to. Both of them moaned quietly at the new contact and made full use of their new position to deepen the kiss even more, with even more passion.

They kept making out like teenagers1 for a long time, taking full advantage of their shared lack of need to breathe. Long enough time for the Bentley to get past its initial gladness and relief from seeing its two favorite dumbasses finally kissing and get bored enough to start playing _Hallelujah Chorus_ on its speakers, as a way to celebrate such a long-awaited and overdue moment.

Crowley, however, didn’t appreciate the gesture that much. – Oi! – he chided, breaking the kiss to look behind him and yell at his car: – I don’t wanna hear this from you. Do you even know how long I… – his voice trailed off, as he heard the sound of chuckling. He looked downwards, only to be presented with a sight that made his demonic heart melt: Aziraphale was giggling happily, overwhelmed with love and relief. He wrapped his arms around the demon’s midsection and buried his face on his neck, his whole body shaking wildly with laughter.

– You’re only getting away with it because you made him laugh. – the demon announced to his car, trying to sound cross, but the undeniable loving smile on his lips betrayed his true feelings. A wave of fondness washed over him, and he could not stop himself from planting a tender kiss on his angel’s forehead, only to be rewarded with the sweetest, purest smile in all of Creation in return. Aziraphale grabbed his hands and kissed his knuckles adoringly, his gaze never leaving the demon’s face.

\- Angel… – Crowley sighed softly, not really sure what to say, since his love-struck brain had practically short-circuited after everything that happened ever since his lips first touched the angel’s own ones.

\- I love you. – Aziraphale declared breathlessly, physically unable to keep his feelings to himself any longer. He grabbed the demon’s cheeks and brought their foreheads together, wanting to have his undivided attention for this. – I am utterly, irrevocably, incorrigibly in love with you, Anthony J. Crowley. You are the absolute love of my life, and I will love you until my last second, I swear to you. Eternity is only bearable if you are by my side. You are the Alpha Centauri A to my Alpha Centauri B, I will orbit around you until both of us turn into dust. – he smirked, happy to have had included that astronomical bit on his speech, certain that Crowley would appreciate that. He gave him a small peck on his lips, before continuing: – Would you give me the absolute honor of being with me, until the end of time and beyond?

To say Crowley was stunned would be a severe understatement; no words in any language known to man would be enough to accurately express his astonishment. If what had happened before was way good enough to be true, **this **was exceptionally unrealistic. There was absolutely **no way** that this was happening. Except… it was. Somehow, it was. It was too palpable, too realistic, to be any dream or fantasy. And the absolute passion in Aziraphale’s blue eyes and in his heartfelt tone of voice was impossible to fake. It was genuine.

Oh fuck. Aziraphale. Just to recapitulate: He was currently fucking seating on Aziraphale’s fucking lap, had just fucking made out with him (he could still feel a drop of the angel’s saliva dripping through his chin, what the fuck) and had just been fucking asked by him to be his fucking boyfriend, was that everything? What the Heaven. It was a true Miracle, capital M, that he hadn’t discoporated already from the pure overwhelmingness of having everything you ever wanted suddenly falling into your lap all of a sudden (technically, he had been the one to fall into the lap of everything he had ever wanted, but let’s not go into details).

There was a lot, **a lot** of things he wanted to say in response. For example: “You… you seriously want to be with me?”, or “Satan, yes, of course, fuck yes, I’m yours, I have been yours since the day I met you.”, or even a mere “Ngk.” However, what actually ended up coming out of his mouth was: – You… you know about that? About Alpha Centauri? – that should have been the least of his surprises, compared to everything else the angel had said. However, the idea of Aziraphale reading about stars and astronomy in general (his own particular favorite interest), was something he would never, ever, expect. – You…you searched about it?

\- You invited me to run away with you there, didn’t you? – asked the angel, running a caressing hand through his red hair – I figured it must probably be important to you, and so, I wanted to know more about it. Maybe we could even take a vacation there, someday, if you would like to. Besides, I…– he hesitated, lowering his gaze bashfully –I wanted to impress you.

\- Angel, you impress me just by existing. – he answered without much thought, before realizing what he had actually said and slapping his hand against his mouth. Too late, though; Aziraphale had already heard it and started smiling widely, with the light of a million stars on his eyes. _Huh,_ he thought after seeing that cute reaction, _maybe it wasn’t been so bad to let that out, after all._

\- So, what do you say…? – the angel pressed on nervously after a few moments, really in need of a confirmation of his beloved’s interest even after everything. He started absent-mindedly playing with his fingers, lowering his gaze once more. – Do you, perhaps, reciprocate my interest in furthering our relationship?

\- Huh? – the demon asked absentmindedly, before remembering the angel’s question from earlier and blessing himself harshly for forgetting to answer. He started rambling a bunch of affirmatives, desperate to convey his overwhelming desire to do so: – Oh, yeah, right, yes I do, of course, one hundred percent, I really want to, please, I… – he suddenly choked on his words, realizing he had just been about to say “I love you”. Oh Satan, he could actually say “I love you’ now, right? He was practically expected to do so now.

Oh **fuck**. He was **so** not ready for this. Aziraphale had just given him such a beautiful speech, such a passionate declaration of love, and he had fuck all to say. No, that was not accurate; he actually had a lot to say, six thousand years of bitten back words of love that had died on his lips, over and over. But old habits die hard, and it’s not just because he suddenly **can **say those words, that he actually **can**, you know? Especially not out of the blue like that, with zero preparation. Fucking Aziraphale and his perfect way with words all the time. He had always sucked at using words to express his emotions (why do you think he insisted on using actions, instead), but this was just ridiculous.

Suddenly though, an idea struck him, inspired by the angel’s act of speaking on his own language of interest. If he could not formulate a passionate declaration of love that would sweep Aziraphale off his feet, he might as well quote one from one of his angel’s favorite stories. There was one of those in particular that he had been in contact with fairly recently, and it had resonated deeply within him, for… reasons. Therefore, its love speech was still fairly fresh in his mind. (not that he had read the said story, of course; movie adaptations existed for a reason.2)

He adjusted himself, trying to stand a little straighter and look less like the infatuated mess that he was. He took a deep breath, grabbed Aziraphale’s hands on his own and, hoping to sound at least one-tenth as charming as the guy from the movie had been, announced, meaning every single word even if they were not his own: – “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love…” – although there really was a pause of hesitation in this part on the original speech, most of the reason for said pause on the demon’s reenactment of it was due to his own nerves acting up. – “I love you. I never wish to be parted from you, from this day on.”

\- Did you… did you just quote Jane Austen at me? – asked Aziraphale, with the same level of incredulity that had befallen Crowley at the angel’s comment about stars.

\- Huh… y-yeah? – Crowley stammered, suddenly second-guessing that brilliant idea of his. He started rambling in an effort to save face, lowering his gaze to his lap, unable to meet the angel’s eyes. In doing so, however, he missed the look of absolute adoration and elation on his angel’s face, who looked as if he had been offered every single book in all of Creation on a silver platter. – I mean, I… I saw that movie – _Pride and Prejudice_, right? – the other day3, and I know that you like that book, so I thought it would be a nice touch, like you did for me with the stars and stuff, but I guess it’s really bad taste to steal someone else’s confession, right? Fuck, I didn’t think of that, I’m sorry, I fucked up, you gave me such a beautiful speech, and I just blurted out someone else’s words, because I’m a fucking idio-

Crowley’s self-deprecating monologue was interrupted by the sudden clash of Aziraphale’s mouth on his, having pulled the demon towards him by his shirt. That was bound to become his favorite way of shutting up his boyfriend when he was being a self-conscious idiot, which happened way too often for his liking. They would have to work on that, but, for the moment, kissing him senseless and reassuring him was all he could do. – Each time I think I can’t possibly fall any deeper in love with you, you go and prove me wrong. – he declared, softly cradling the demon’s reddening face in his hands. – It was perfect, sweetheart. You’re perfect. I love you too.

\- Sweethea… – he almost choked at the endearment, flushing even redder. – Bless it, Aziraphale, you can’t just say stuff like that!

\- Why not? – the angel questioned, with a big, lovestruck smile splitting his face. – Are you not my sweetheart? My dearest? My darling? My one and only? My other half? – he punctuated every question with a kiss on a different part of his face: his cheeks, his nose, his eyes.

\- Stop it… – the demon pleaded weakly, but the big, earnest smile on his lips said quite the opposite.

\- No. I will not stop, not now, not ever. – he turned down the request, planting a final small kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. – You said yes, so you are stuck with me and my terms of endearment, forever.

\- Lucky me…– Crowley announced on a sardonic tone, with a fondly annoyed roll of his eyes. He followed it with a heavy sigh, feeling even worse for his pathetic attempt at a confession. – Trust me to fall for the most eloquent angel in all of Creation, while I am an inarticulate dumbass who can’t even put two words together to declare my love. A match made in Hell. Well, not quite, actually.

\- Oh, if you must know, I didn’t come up with that speech on the spot. – Aziraphale confessed, hoping that this knowledge would make his beloved feel better. – I actually spent quite some time working on it, in the past few days. I had planned on delivering it to you during our picnic, but… – his voice trailed off at the sight of the demon’s wide-eyed stare.

\- Seriously? – Crowley asked, his voice dripping with disbelief.

\- Quite so. – the angel answered, smiling softly at his counterpart’s surprise; he did look quite lovely when expressing astonishment. He ought to surprise him more. – I apologize for my impatience. I have already waited for almost eighty years for this moment, you would think I would be able to wait a little longer so I could do this right. I ended up making a mess off things, I know. But you were feeling so dejected, so anxious about this, about our relationship, that I simply could not wait any longer! I could not let you go another second without knowing about my feelings and intentions for you.

There was a small pause, no longer than a few seconds, much needed for Crowley to take everything in. That was a lot, but one part specifically stood out to him: – Almost eighty years, huh? 1941? – he took a guess, the incident on the Blitz on said year being his best bet.

\- I… hum… yes. – Aziraphale confirmed, with a faint pinkness on his cheeks. –Well, you see, I… I must have loved you for much longer, only God Herself knows how long, but I only realized my feelings for you that night. At the Blitz, you know? When you saved me and… – he sighed softly at the memory of that night – and my books.

\- Why? Why that time and not, I don’t know, 1793, or any other time I saved you? – Crowley asked, genuinely curious. Part of him wanted to take notes, for future reference. Just in case he ever needed to make his angel fall in love with him again.

\- Isn’t it obvious? –the angel asked in return, startled by his counterpart’s obliviousness. – You saved my books!

\- Well, duh, of course I did. – the demon replied, on a deadpan tone, as if the angel had stated a self-evident fact. – They were important to you, and you would have spent half a century whining about them if I hadn’t. It was almost an afterthought, really.

\- That’s it, you see? – Aziraphale pointed out, overwhelmed by his affection. He took the demon’s hands in his and interlocked their fingers together, with a sweet smile. –You showed me then that you care not only about me but also about what’s important to me. No one else would even begin to think about the books. No one else would care enough. I pretty much fell in love with you by realizing how much **you** loved **me**, you might say. – he finished, with a small chuckle.

\- Ah. I see. Huh. – muttered the demon, trying to make sense of what the angel had said. Aziraphale had fallen in love with him because of that? Such a small thing? It almost didn’t feel right. Although, he was glad that his boyfriend hadn’t needed to suffer from loving someone he could not have for too long. He knew, more than anyone, how unpleasant that was. – Must be nice, to only have been pining for less than a century… – he whispered to himself, not intending for the angel to hear that.

However, he had seemed to forget that he was still straddling the angel’s lap, and, therefore, the amount of space between them was quite minimal, more than enough for either of them to hear the other muttering under their breath. – Only less than a century…? – Aziraphale asked, having heard the demon’s mumbling. That piqued his curiosity. – Crowley, dearest, how long have you been aware of your feelings for me?

Crowley, realizing that he had been heard, quickly blessed himself in his head, before murmuring something inaudibly.

\- What was that?

\- How long has it been since you gave away your sword? – he repeated himself louder and clearer this time, averting his gaze and suddenly very interested in the window on his side.

\- Oh, it was 6023 years ago, why do you as- – the angel answered absentmindedly, before realizing the true intent behind the question. He froze, tightening his grip on their still interlocked hands. – No…

\- Yes.

\- That… that long?

\- Yep.

\- Oh, Crowley… – it was his turn to whisper weakly, his tone weighing heavily with a mix of guilt and sorrow.

\- Hey, angel, don’t sweat it, okay? – Crowley asked soothingly, turning his gaze back to him after hearing the regret in his angel’s voice. He took his hands out of the grasp they were in to caress his boyfriend’s face. – It’s alright, it was nothing, I swear. Blink of an eye, really. What’s a few thousand years for beings like us, huh? – he joked, trying to get a few giggles out of his boyfriend as well. Failing to do so, he sighed heavily and decided to take another approach, a more serious one: – C’mon, angel, don’t be like that. It’s not your fault if I’m an idiot who fell in love at first sight with the first interesting angel I saw on Earth. I mean, I was lucky that you even wanted to be my friend all this time!

Aziraphale shook his head, feeling even more dejected at the demon’s words. – It’s not that, it’s just…I feel really terrible about the way I treated you, all these years, especially knowing you loved me already. – he felt his throat tighten up, the reminder of his past mistreatments of his beloved brutally echoing in his head. – All the times I pushed you away, rejected you, said that we weren’t even friends… I must have hurt you, so, so badly. Can you ever forgive me?

\- Angel… – Crowley tried to speak up, to tell his angel that there was nothing to forgive, that it was all water under the bridge, but Aziraphale shut him up with a finger to his lips.

\- You do know, right? – the angel asked fervently, grabbling his boyfriend’s face and looking into his eyes with certain desperation in his gaze. –That I never really wanted to do that, to push you away. I did all of that to protect you, because I was afraid for your safety, our safety. I broke your heart to keep you safe, and it broke my own heart to do that, but I had to. – he felt uncontrollable tears watering his eyes, and he looked away, not wanting to make the demon feel even worse because of them. – It was never because of you, because of anything you did or are, I promise.

\- Hey, hey, hey, look at me. – the demon urged, raising his thumbs to wipe the tears away. He planted another tender kiss on his forehead, wishing he could magically impart all of his love onto his boyfriend’s mind. – It’s alright, angel. Swear. I know that, I promise. You have nothing to be forgiven for, but, if it will make you feel better, I forgive you. But it’s not your fault, and you have absolutely nothing to feel guilty for. You don’t have to justify yourself. You did what you had to do. – he gently caressed his angel’s hair with a soft, comforting smile.

Aziraphale didn’t look any less distraught by the comforting, though. Crowley sighed heavily once more, realizing he would have to take the serious talk route once more. – Look, angel, I won’t deny. Yeah, it was hard. Being in love with you, I mean. The “falling in love” part was easy. Probably the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Actually **being** in love with you was hard. Especially since I spent most of the time almost convinced you would never even begin to love me back. But I wouldn’t ever want to change anything. – he smiled earnestly at him, hoping that it would convey the sincerity in his words. – You are worth all of that, you always were.

\- But… – Aziraphale protested, feeling like he shouldn’t be absolved so easily, only to find his own new tactic of shutting up being used against him. Crowley planted a sweet, yet firm kiss on his lips and he melted into it, of course he did, momentarily letting go of all his anguish. It was practically impossible to feel any negative feelings when he was kissed like that. It was practically impossible to even think about anything else.

-That’s more than enough “compensation” for me, angel. – Crowley declared after breaking up the kiss, with a teasing grin. – Although… I wouldn’t object if you kept “compensating” me more, y’know? – he winked suggestively, unconsciously licking his lips at the idea.

Aziraphale could only stare back at him, speechless, with a bittersweet mix of love and remorse threatening to crush his insides completely. He knew he could not even begin to deserve such absolute devotion, but he would spend the rest of his life trying to earn it, if he needed to. Starting from now on. – Oh, I believe I should, isn’t it right? – he played along, but there was underlying determination within him to give his beloved everything he could ever want and more. It was the least he could do to make it up to him. – I’ve got 6023 years of compensating to make up for. – and without another word, he grabbed onto his boyfriend’s shirt and violently pulled him towards himself, clasping their mouths together on a desperate attempt to convey his gratitude and utter adoration to him.

Crowley had not been expecting another steamy make out session so soon, but he sure as Heaven would not be the one to complain about it. Especially not when Aziraphale was roaming his hands all over his back like that, as if he was starving for even the barest of contact even if only over his clothes. To make matters even better, the Bentley decided to start playing _Get Down, Make Love _on its speakers, purposefully making his long-standing wish of making out with his angel to the sound of Queen come true. Good girl. He knew there was a reason he kept her around for ninety years.

_Ah, so this is how it feels_, he would have thought, if his entire mind hadn’t been too focused on how it felt to be kissed as if you were the only thing ever worthy of being loved._ To have everything that you ever wanted. To actually feel happy, and not merely to merely content yourself with mere scraps of satisfaction. This is the real thing._

Aziraphale knew all about how happy his beloved was feeling, his inner sensor of positive feelings going wild inside him with the utter joy radiating from the demon. He could barely stop himself from grinning widely into the kiss, feeling overjoyed himself at his boyfriend’s bliss. Throughout the years, he had scarcely felt any positive emotions radiating from Crowley, to the point where he had once that demons couldn’t emit their positive feelings, just like they couldn’t do it with their love. Therefore, for him to feel his boyfriend positively glow with happiness and know he was the cause of it… It was almost too much for him to deal with. He just wanted to keep giving him more and more reason to feel happy, so he could start making up for all the lost time.

Just when Crowley thought the situation could not get any better, he felt his angel move his mouth down from his lips towards his neck, only to start sucking and biting at the skin there. Almost simultaneously, the hands that had been keenly exploring his back started reaching even lower, until they reached his backside and stopped there, with a gentle squeeze. The combination of both actions, in addition to the faint dinging of his inner lust sensor, was enough to overpower his senses for a moment; he let out a strangled noise, violently ripped out of his throat; not quite a moan, not quite a grunt.

Said noise attracted the angel’s attention, who interpreted it as a sound of distress and, fearing he might have overstepped his boyfriend’s boundaries, pulled away from his neck and withdrew his hands from his rear, while angling himself so he could look him in his eyes again. – What’s wrong, love? Did I go too far? – he asked, raising one hand to caress his hair soothingly, hoping he hadn’t been too forward. It was hard to contain himself now that he could actually get a taste of it, but Crowley only needed to say the word and he would abstain for the rest of his life. – If you don’t want to, we don’t need to do anything more than kissing.

\- No! – the demon fervently denied his assumption at once, quickly grabbing the angel’s hands and putting them back where they were. – I do want to do more, angel, sorry. It’s just… – he hesitated, not really wanting to show the angel how easily overwhelmed he had gotten with just light teasing – you caught me by surprise, that’s all. Besides… – he raised his eyebrows suggestively, unable to resist the impulse to make a teasing joke. – at least take me out on a date first. I am a proper demon, you know?

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at that, with a mischievous smile on his lips. He moved his mouth towards his boyfriend’s ear, giving its earlobe a small bite, before whispering, in his most seductive tone: – My dearest, I believe we have gone on 348 dates already. However…– he leaned back and withdrew his hands once more, raising them up in a sign of surrender, although the playful glint in his eyes told another story. – if you insist, I shall take you out on an official date first. I would never wish for your propriety to be questioned.

\- W-wait, you’ve considered them dates too? – asked the demon, still reeling from the earlobe bite and subsequent whispering. He was too shocked by the revelation to be outraged by the angel’s bastardness, though. – And you’ve been counting them as well?

\- Yes, and yes. – Aziraphale confirmed, smiling tenderly at him. He grabbed the demon’s hands and started playing affectionately with his fingers, tracing his thumb over them. – Do you remember our first date, back in Rome? You kept stretching our conversation by bringing up random topics. It was adorable.

\- You noticed it? – Crowley asked, feeling a twinge of embarrassment for having been caught. His angel had appreciated it, though, so it wasn’t that bad. – Shit. And there I thought I was being subtle. – he let out a small chuckle, reminiscing fondly about the occasion and about what came afterwards. – That’s when I made my Effort, you know? – he confessed, with a faint blush on his cheeks. Might as well be open about it, since they were already this deep into… all of this. – Couldn’t stop thinking about you.

\- O-oh, is that so? – the angel asked, his cheeks suddenly mirroring his counterpart’s in regards to color. He felt a pleasant warmth settling in his chest at the confession. – Well, I made mine in 1941, not long after I realized my feelings for you. Quite a late bloomer in comparison, I know.

\- Wait…– the demon mumbled gingerly, feeling his world tilt 180 degrees on its axis. It was a good type of rotation though, as if it were finally coming to its rightful place, after being in the wrong position all of his life. – You made it… because of me?

\- Hum, yes, of course. – the angel replied on an almost patronizing tone, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. – Who else would I ever make it for?

Crowley mumbled something in response that sounded suspiciously like “Oscar Wilde”, but the angel could not be 100% sure. Just 99%, though. He tilted his head a bit, non-verbally asking the demon to repeat himself, clearer this time. Crowley let out an exasperated groan, trying to come up with something else on the spot, not about to sound like a jealous idiot in front of him. – I don’t know, anyone else? You always had some human draped all over you, it’s not a stretch to think you’d go all the way with one of them.

\- But why would I ever think about anyone else like this, when I’ve got you? – Aziraphale asked, genuinely confused, although there was a clear tone of flirting in his voice as well. He leaned on and pressed a small kiss to the edge of his mouth, before continuing: – Don’t you even know how tempting you are?

If Crowley’s inner lust sensor was to be believed, and all of the lust he was sensing was coming from his angel and not from some random passerby near them, then apparently he really had no fucking idea. – Ngh. – he grunted, feeling the absolute desire radiating from Aziraphale almost engulf him completely. How the fuck could an angel feel so much lust inside them? – Where the Heaven did you learn to be so seductive and charming, angel? I don’t suppose there’s a Demon Seduction 101 course in Heaven.

\- No, unfortunately, there isn’t. I would have made great use of one of these, though. – Aziraphale teased back, humorously. He brought the hands he was playing with to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his counterpart’s fingers, while gazing up at him with an earnest gaze. - And I’m just telling the truth, love. You are, always were, and always will be, the only one for me.

The effect that those words had on Crowley was similar to a sucker punch delivered directly to his solar plexus. For a few moments he forgot to breathe, he forgot even **how** to breathe, the sheer relief overflowing in his veins almost making him dizzy. His angel only ever had had eyes for him. He had never needed to share him, had never needed to compete with anyone, especially not with some pretentious writer who gave him signed first editions and everything. Aziraphale preferred him, a pathetic excuse of a demon who has read maybe five books in all of his life and who went too fast for him, over anyone else. _Suck on that, Oscar Wilde_.

– Ngh… I mean, same, y’know? – he stuttered, not quite sure on what to say. All he knew was that he absolutely needed his angel to know that he was his only one as well, so he would feel the same bliss that he was feeling. – It’s the same for me. You know that, right? – the angel nodded his head in agreement, with a patient, knowing smile on his lips. His eyes seemed to glow a little brighter at that, though. – Good. I… I… – it was his turn to explode into a fit of giggles, laughing madly with a mixture of relief and pure joy. He wrapped his arms against his boyfriend’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug and burying the angel’s head under his chin, laughing even harder. Aziraphale smiled widely at that rare display of the demon’s true, earnest laughter, always the sweetest melody his ears could ever hear, before hugging him back affectionately, basking in the overwhelming surge of unadulterated happiness radiating from him.

They spent a few moments like that, just holding each other, until Crowley’s laughter finally died down, being replaced by a calm sense of lightheartedness, unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was if the Universe had finally reached its perfect balance, and everything was in its perfect place, never to be disturbed again. He hugged his angel even tighter, mumbling into his soft hair: – Can you die from happiness? ‘Cause I think I’m really close to that.

\- Oh, please don’t die just yet, love. – requested the angel, leaning back just enough so he could see Crowley’s face; he wanted to see his reaction to what he was about to say. – At least not before I get to have my way with you. – the demon’s previous reassurance of his desire to go further than kissing had greatly fueled his confidence, and so he winked flirtatiously, before adding for good measure: – Only if you want me to, of course.

\- Ngh. Ah. Hum. – Crowley stuttered, his previous state of serene bliss giving way to some eager excitement. Oh Satan, Aziraphale actually wanted to have sex with him. Soon. They would probably fuck in the near future. This was not a drill. - Any… any ideas? – he asked, trying really hard to not sound like the blushing virgin that he actually was. – On what you’d like to… do with me?

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow at the question, a sly smirk on his lips. Without much pause, he leaned forward and started whispering a plethora of things in the demon’s ear, all of them very much unangelic in their nature. He even put a hand in front of his mouth, as to completely conceal his words from any lip reader out there. Crowley could feel his face flushing exponentially at every word the angel said, resulting in a complete reddening of his whole facial area, along with a significant part of his neck, at the end of the angel’s declaration.

\- Angel! – he exclaimed loudly, feeling a strong wave of confused arousal wash over him. Who was this incubus, and what had they done to his frigid, prude angel? – What the Heaven? When did you–What the fuck is Heaven teaching their angels these days?

\- Oh, it has nothing to do with Heaven, I’m afraid. – he countered with a dismissive wave of hand, suppressing an awkward laugh at the reminder of Gabriel’s last visit to his bookshop, and the absolute idiotic way in which he had claimed he was going to buy “pornography”4, with absolutely no awareness about what it meant. He had never felt so much second-hand embarrassment in all of his life. – I learned all of that on Earth, dear boy. Or did you honestly think that I only read innocent novels? – he chuckled lightly at the demon’s shocked expression, hoping that it didn’t mean he was put off by his suggestions. – So, what do you say? Are you… amenable to my ideas?

\- Amenable? – Crowley questioned sardonically, still not quite believing his angel’s unexpectedly high sexual disposition. Not that he had any problems with it, of course. Quite the opposite. It was a fucking dream come true, except for the fact that the Aziraphale in his dreams would never say even one-third of the things the real one had just whispered in his ear. – If I’m amenable? Hell yeah I’m “amenable”. I’m up to literally anything you want, really. But…– he lowered his gaze, scratching his nape anxiously, before giving voice to a long-repressed worry of his: – Aren’t you scared that you’ll Fall if we go all the way? I mean, what we’re already doing is already sinful enough on its own, but having **sex** with a **demon**? Not the most angelic thing, angel. – he sighed, feeling the concern for his angel sober him up from his bliss faster than any miracle in the world. No long-standing happiness for the wicked, apparently. – And I promised I would not let you Fall, so, if it means we can never have sex, I’m fine with it. Really.

Aziraphale stared back at him in silence for a few seconds, with an unreadable expression in his face. It unnerved the demon to no end, to the point where he was readying himself physically and emotionally to get off the angel’s lap, believing that reaction to be a sign that he wasn’t welcome there anymore (this was why he didn’t get to have nice things). Before he could even begin to stand up though, a pair of hands grabbed strongly at his forearms, keeping him right where he was.

He looked up, to meet Aziraphale’s eyes, now shining with determination and steadfastness. – Crowley, I’m not going to Fall for loving you, in any way. – he stated, with absolute certainty on his voice. – Loving you can’t possibly be wrong, it’s the most right thing I’ve ever done, actually. Love like ours can’t possibly be a sin. – he cracked a small smile, feeling utterly intoxicated by the freedom of finally being able to say something like this. – Besides, even if I did end up hypothetically Falling because of it, which I won’t, I’m not afraid of that anymore. I know that you’d catch me. – he joked, hoping it would ease the demon’s mood and make him see that there was nothing to be worried about.

It didn’t. In fact, it made it even worse. – It doesn’t work like that, angel, and you bloody know it. – Crowley snapped a bit too harshly at his boyfriend, angry at him for not treating this seriously. It was a big deal, for fuck’s sake! It could ruin everything!

\- I know, love. – the angel agreed, quickly explaining himself in an effort to clear the air around them: – I’m sorry. It was just a metaphor, I’m just trying to say is that even if I Fell, it wouldn’t be so bad, if I had you by my side.

\- Yes, it **would** be very bad, Aziraphale. – the demon snarled, digging his nails into his palms in irritation. Why the fuck was Aziraphale treating this so casually? – You would **hate** being a demon, I assure you. And you would hate me for being the cause of it. – he gave away his closely guarded fear just like that, the anger and fear inside him blinding him to any sort of concern for secrecy.– You would hate me, I would lose you, you would be miserable, and it would be all my fucking fault.

\- Crowley, I really don’t think it is actually possible for me to hate you. – Aziraphale replied in the softest of tones, giving his boyfriend a small, comforting smile. He grabbed the demon’s tightly shut fists and gently eased them open again, before proceeding to caress his abused palms calmingly. He was actually glad for this outburst since it had provided an opportunity for Crowley to speak of fears he would never voice otherwise, and for him to reassure him. – I never could, even when it would have been better for me to do so. And why on Earth would it be your fault? I mean, are you forcing me to do this? – the demon’s eyes widened as much as humanly, I mean, demonically possible at that. He frantically shook his head, the mere idea of it making his stomach turn violently. – Then it’s my responsibility, whatever happens, don’t you think? Free will works like that.

Crowley opened up his mouth, probably to contest the angel’s logic somehow, but he was silenced with a finger to his lips before he could say anything: – Look, love, I understand your concern. I truly do. But you don’t need to worry, I assure you. I am positively sure that it won’t come to the worst-case scenario. And I don’t think it’s fair to deny something both of us want, just because of a remote, infinitesimal possibility. – as he said that though, a new, horrible possibility made its way into his mind. He stared straight into his boyfriend’s golden eyes, as if trying to see straight into his soul. –You do want this, right? You are not just saying this as an excuse because you don’t really want to have sex, are you?

\- What? Of course not, idiot! – the demon exclaimed loudly, gesticulating wildly with his arms. He felt a wave of outrageousness and frustration wash over him at the angel’s doubt of his interest. – Do you have any idea, any clue, about how much I want you? About how long I wanted to just be able to touch you like this? – he wished his angel could physically sense how much he desired him, like he could feel his craving emanating from him like shock waves. Oh well, he would just have to show him his desire in the human, old fashioned way, then.

He adjusted his posture, willing himself to sit straighter, before slamming his hands on the bench behind his angel, as if trapping him against it with his body. He stared down at him with a half-lidded gaze and a wicked smile on his lips, before announcing, on his most alluring tone: – In fact, you could have your way with me, right here, right now. – he was mostly teasing, but if his angel really wanted to make good on his offer, he would not object in the slightest. He leaned over to whisper on his ear, dropping his voice an octave for maximum seduction power: – Throw me on the backseat and do all of the unholy things you can imagine to me. And then I’ll do all of the unholy things that **I** can imagine to you, and trust me, when I’m done with you, they will have to promote me to a demon of lust.

\- T-tempting… – Aziraphale answered in a nigh breathless tone, and the ridiculously high intensity on Crowley’s inner lust sensor confirmed the temptation he was feeling. Moved by such enticement, the angel resumed his previous endeavor of giving the demon a good old lovebite, eliciting a quiet moan from the demon, who buried his hands on the angel’s hair in response. Aziraphale proceeded to kiss and suck at the skin there until he was satisfied with the bruise he formed. _Mine_, he thought, carefully removing himself from the other’s neck and adjusting his slightly rumpled clothes, with a bastardly smug smile. – But I believe I do need to take you out on a date first, don’t I? Aren’t you a proper demon? – he gave his boyfriend a small, tender peck on his lips. – I can’t possibly do all of those unholy things with you before properly courting you.

Crowley’s felt a perfect mix of frustration and adoration grow inside him at the angel’s sudden retreat. Had the bastard really just given him a lovebite, just like that? Fucking hell, Aziraphale was such a tease. He was so in love. – … Bastard. **My** bastard. – he said, grinning broadly; Aziraphale’s inner bastardness always amused him to no end. He pulled his angel towards his chest and planted a kiss in his cheek, still feeling fluttery by the fact that Aziraphale was now actually **his**. – Oh, if I wasn’t possessive of you before… now they’re going to have to pry you from my dead, cold fingers.

_Bold of your part to assume that I would let you die first, dearest_, the angel thought to himself, but didn’t dare to say it aloud, knowing that if he did so, it would sap all of the demon’s joy and easygoingness, and there was no need for that. He contented himself with hugging him closer and silently vowing to himself to protect his beloved, whatever it takes. –Shall we go, then? – he proposed, after a few moments of peaceful snuggling. Not that he would mind spending all of eternity right there, in Crowley’s arms, but they had a first official date to go to – I had a lot of trouble to prepare this picnic, and I really don’t want it to go to waste. I even got you flowers and everything…

\- You…. You got me flowers? – the demon asked, leaning back so his boyfriend could see the incredulity in his eyes. He really hadn’t seen that one coming.

\- Yes, I did. I… – the angel hesitated, suddenly second thinking what once had been his ace in the hole. He pressed on though, no way to turn back now that he had shown him his hand. – I was hoping that you would like the gesture, since you are so attuned to Botanics, even you only cultivate flowerless plants…

\- You. Got me. Flowers. – Crowley repeated, slowly, still coming to terms with the idea. As it settled in, a big, overjoyed smile spread on his face, his eyes lighting up like fireworks on New Year’s Eve. Unfortunately, it went unnoticed by the angel, who had already turned away his gaze to the side, the claws of insecurity grabbing hold of him.

\- Yes, I did. You… you don’t want them? – he asked in a weak voice, clasping his hands together in an effort to hide their slight shaking. He had not considered it up to that moment, but Crowley was more likely to laugh at him for being antiquated and old-fashioned than to actually appreciate the gesture as he intended. “_For fuck’s sake, angel, we’re not in the 19th century anymore_!”, he could already hear him perfectly inside his mind. Or maybe he would find it too cliché and overused. It was, wasn’t it? Oh dear, why did he ever think this was a good idea? –You don’t need to accept them if you don’t want to, love, I swear I won’t be upset.

\- Hell no, I want them! – Crowley exclaimed excitedly, vehemently denying the angel’s assumption. Aziraphale’s gaze snapped back at him, instantly feeling a wave of relief flowing through him at his boyfriend’s words and cheerfulness. – I want them, fuck, I love receiving flowers, angel. I was just surprised, ‘cause, you know, never thought you’d give me some. And I know **you **know the proper flower language, so I won’t have a repeat of the last time some guy tried to give me flowers. It was terrible.

\- What did the fellow get you?

\- Petunias. – the demon answered, with an annoyed roll of his eyes.

\- Ouch. Resentment and anger. – Aziraphale winced, and Crowley smiled even wider at him, glad to see that they were on the same page in regards to floriography. – Not the best kind of flower to give someone, for certain. I assure you that my choice of flowers isn’t that outrageous.

\- Let me see them, then. – the demon challenged, raising his eyebrows provocatively. – I have high hopes for you, Aziraphale.

\- Patience, dearheart. – the angel replied, as if he was talking to an impatient child lacking the concept of delayed gratification.– I will give them to you at the right time, during our picnic.

\- So I better get us to our date, huh? I just gotta… – his voice trailed off, as both of them simultaneously realized that for Crowley to finish driving them to the park, they would need to get out of their current, mutually appreciated predicament. It saddened them both to let go of each other, but they contented themselves with the promise of a future new contact. They shared one last sweet kiss, before the demon swiftly went back to the driver’s seat, trying very hard not to feel like he had just parted with half of his soul. – Right. Hum. Let’s go. – he grabbed the steering wheel and stepped on the accelerator as hard as he could, only focused on getting to the park as soon as possible.

Aziraphale wasn’t faring any better, the sudden loss of contact leaving a strong bitter taste in his mouth and a metaphorical hole in his soul. He was quick to snatch the demon’s hand once again, starving for even the slightest amount of touch. He didn’t even mind in the slightest when Crowley pushed 120 mph on a relatively crowded street, feeling the same desperation his boyfriend felt to get to their destination as fast as they could.

It was funny: they had spent six thousand years of friendship with minimal physical contact, only touching on accident or when absolutely needed, but now, after only a few moments of relatively unrestricted contact, they simply could not get their hands off of each other without feeling some severe abstinence symptoms.

Crowley let his hand be grabbed with zero resistance, immediately interlocking their fingers together; he felt the sense of loss in his soul grow smaller at that. The feeling was mutual for the angel, who started stroking the back of his hand affectionately. – So, are there a lot of people giving you flowers, I assume? – he asked in a teasing manner, trying to distract them both from their impatience. – It wouldn’t surprise me, seeing how beautiful you are. Does that mean I have a lot of competition?

\- Oh yea, loads. – the demon teased back with a dismissive wave of his free hand, and it was only due to a small miracle that he managed to keep the blushing on his cheeks to a minimal. Would he ever get used to having his angel call him beautiful? Probably not. – You’re going to up your game if you want to win my heart, angel.

\- Do I need to duel anyone for your hand? I am acquainted with a sword, after all.

\- Hum, no, I don’t believe so. – Crowley answered, his face contorting into a thinking expression as if he were seriously pondering about the question. – If you give me a decent bouquet of flowers and do all of those things you whispered in my ear, I’ll give you my hand.

\- I believe I can do that. – agreed Aziraphale, with a silly smile on his face. They simultaneously burst into a mild fit of laughter at the ridiculousness of their dialogue, and the angel moved himself to rest his head on the demon's shoulder, feeling the affection inside his chest threatening to burst him from inside out. He had always yearned for this, the chance to be silly and affectionate with his favorite person, without any reservations or awkwardness stemmed from unsaid things. He looked up at him, to see his free, happy-go-lucky smile, and felt his own grow even bigger, letting himself revel in the feeling of his unbridled joy, intoxicating like the most powerful drug out there.

They spent a few more minutes like that in silence, just enjoying each other’s company and touch, and before either of them noticed, they had arrived at their destination. Crowley parked the car on a vacant parking space and let out a sigh to calm his nerves that were suddenly acting up now that they were actually there. He managed to push the anxiety away and turned to the angel snuggling his shoulder.

\- Angel, we’re here. – he announced with a gentle shake of his boyfriend’s shoulder, thinking perhaps he had fallen asleep on him. When he looked at him, however, he was presented with pale blue eyes staring right back at him in adoration. He kept staring for a few seconds, lost in his boyfriend’s golden eyes, before quickly snapping back to reality with a quick blink of his eyes. He swiftly retreated from his shoulder and proceeded to carefully adjust his slightly creased bowtie.

\- Oh, we have arrived already, huh? – he asked, looking out the window for confirmation. Seeing they were indeed at their desired destination, he reached out to the backseat and grabbed the picnic basket sitting there. – Good. Wait here, love. – with that, he quickly opened the car’s door and got out, leaving behind a confused demon.

Said demon just shrugged his shoulders and buried his hands on his eyes, trying to contain the big, overjoyed smile splitting his face. He leaned forward and hugged the steering wheel, resting his head on top of it with a dreamy gaze. – What the fuck is happening, man… – he muttered to his car, wondering not only in regards to his angel’s weird behavior, but also referring to the situation as whole. It would take at least a few months for all of this to settle in, and for him to get used to the idea of Aziraphale being his bloody boyfriend and everything. – There’s no fucking way I got so lucky all of a sudden… this is a fucking pipe dream, it’s gotta be…

He was startled out of his daydreams by the sudden opening of the door to his side. He looked over to see Aziraphale standing there, holding the basket in his left arm, while hiding his right hand behind his back. He was smiling widely at him, offering Crowley his left hand to help him get out of the car. He took it, and, after he got out, slammed the door shut and locked the car with a snap, the angel lurched his hidden hand forward, presenting him with a bouquet of flowers.

\- These are for you, love. – he announced, with a proud, confident smile. Crowley took the bouquet, noticing it was carefully wrapped with a brown paper and decorated with a red ribbon. He ran his fingers through the petals, and he could feel that they were real flowers and not just miracled ones5. This was proof that his angel had really planned all of this in advance, and it made a pleasant warmth spread all over his body, all the way to his fingertips. He brought them to his nose so he could inhale their aroma, before closely examining them in order to infer the message hidden in their meanings.

\- Purple lilacs: First love. Aw, Aziraphale, I was your first crush? How embarrassing for you…. – he teased, resisting the urge to pinch the angel’s cheeks affectionately. All he got was a fondly annoyed roll of eyes in response, and so he continued. –White violets: Let’s take a chance. Huh. Fitting. – he briefly smiled at that, fondly remembering the angel’s declaration from earlier.– Ambrosias: Y-your love is… is reciprocated. – Weird. There was a tight lump growing on his throat now, causing him some difficulty to speak. Was he getting sick or something? Could demons even get sick? – Pr-primroses: I… I can’t live without… without you. – Huh. Suddenly, he could see his hand shaking wildly. There must be an earthquake or something. What a shame, it was such a beautiful day. – F-freesias: Un… un… unconditional l-love. – Had it started raining all of a sudden? He felt a drop of water fall into his hand, but the sun was still shining brightly, so how…

Suddenly, he felt a hand caressing his cheek. Well, not any hand, it was his angel’s hand, and it wasn’t exactly caressing what he was doing. There was a handkerchief in his hand, and… wait. Was he… wiping his face? Why? Had something splashed on it?

\- You’re crying! – the angel exclaimed gleefully, with a hand over his mouth. The shining in his eyes would put even the brightest diamonds in all of Creation to shame. – I made you cry from happiness! I had been sensing your joy ever since we first kissed, but now… You are like a beacon of light, shining so brightly! I can feel your happiness radiating from you, so strongly!

Wait, what? He was… **crying**? From happiness? No **fucking** way. He knew he was a pathetic demon, but this was just ridiculous.

\- Crying? Shut the hell up, I’m a demon. Demons don’t cry. – he blatantly lied, leaning back so he could withdraw his head from the angel’s hand. He grabbed his sunglasses and put them on again, in an effort to hide his blatant tears. – I just got some pollen stuck in my eyes, that’s all.

_Oh. So we are doing it this way, I see. _– Hum, yes, that’s right, love. I’m sorry. –the angel rectified himself, willing to let his beloved keep his demonic pride. – Let me just help you remove the… pollen… out of your eyes, okay? – he reached out with the handkerchief again, and gently wiped the tears away from behind the sunglasses, until his eyes were mostly dry. – There, all done.

\- Thanks. – mumbled the demon looking down in embarrassment. He let out a deep sigh and turned his gaze back to Aziraphale, speaking on an apologetic tone: – Hey… Sorry I don’t have anything for you. If I knew we were going to… do this, I would have grown you a nice bouquet of flowers myself. But give me a few months and I’ll have one for you, I promise.

\- Don’t worry about that, dearest. – the angel replied, with a reassuring smile. –You have all the time in the world to give me all the flowers I could ever want.

\- Well, just so I don’t leave you without anything, what I can give you now is… this. – he snapped his fingers, and, in a flash, a flower appeared in his free hand, and he handed it out to the angel. – I know miracled flowers aren’t the same thing as the real ones, but… – his voice trailed off at the sight of his angel’s awestruck expression, holding the flower in his hand with such care as if it were the most precious and invaluable thing in the world.

\- A lavender rose. Love at first sight. – Aziraphale whispered, cradling the flower close to his chest and caressing its absolutely flawless petals. He sighed softly: – Oh, Crowley…

\- Mm. It’s nothing. – the demon shrugged his shoulders, not really understanding why his angel was making such a big deal about a miracled flower, but happy to have pleased him with that, nonetheless. He extended him his hand, still not quite believing that he could legitimately ask to hold Aziraphale’s hand, just because he wanted to: – Shall we go on, then? It’s getting late, angel.

\- Sure thing, love. – the angel agreed, still smiling fondly at the rose in his hands. He would cherish it forever.6– Let me just… – he glanced at the outstretched hand but didn’t take it immediately. Instead, he started fumbling with the rose on his hand, trying to do something with it. Finally, he gave up with an impatient sigh, and held out the basket towards his boyfriend: – Hold this for a second, would you?

\- Sure – the demon complied, quickly taking the basket from the angel’s hand. He regretted it immediately as he almost sunk to the ground with the weight of it. What the Heaven had Aziraphale packed into this thing? And how did he carry it so effortlessly? Holding it with his two hands was almost dislocating Crowley’s shoulders, yet the angel had been carrying it on his arm without a sign of distress.

He always forgot how strong his angel was. His appearance might deceive an unaware stranger, but he had actually been created to be a warrior, a (former) soldier of Heaven and the ex-Guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, to top it all off. Of course he was pretty darn strong, even if he never actually used that strength for its originally intended purposes.

Said angel was currently stuffing the rose he’d been given into a recently miracled pocket in his waistcoat, intentionally placed right above his heart. He finished adjusting its petals so they would look as good as possible, before taking the basket into his hands once more (he felt a mix of pity and amusement at the demon’s struggle to carry the basket, but decided to spare his dignity this time, barely acknowledging his trouble). Only then he finally took his boyfriend’s hand in his, and smiled widely at him: – Shall we go, then?

That smile, decided Crowley, was definitely worth almost having your elbows popped off.

They leisurely walked for a while, hand in hand, looking for a good spot for the picnic, but also just happily enjoying the other’s company. Just enjoying the chance to be like this, out in the open, without having to cover it up or constantly worry for their lives. It was more than either of them ever thought they would get to have. And now that they **did** get to have it, they would gladly fight Heaven and Hell over and over to be able to keep it.

Eventually, they found a nice spot waiting for them, without neither of them needing to miracle it vacant. As soon as they got there, Aziraphale quickly proceeded to grab a tartan blanket from the basket and spread it out on the ground for both of them to sit. After they were seated (side by side, of course) the angel started pulling food after food from the basket, in a quantity that certainly should not be able to fit inside its interior. Packed up sandwiches, brownies, three kinds of salads, an apple pie, cookies… there was no end to it.

\- Angel, did you pack up your whole kitchen? – Crowley asked incredulously after his boyfriend had already pulled twenty items from the basket. – Not even you can eat all of that in one sitting, even with my help.

\- Ah, I, I just wanted it to be perfect, you know? – Aziraphale explained, feeling slightly embarrassed; he lowered the bottle of wine and the two glasses in his hands to the ground to play with his hands nervously. He may or may not have slightly panicked and decided to stress-cook and stress-buy every single one picnic dish he could think of, in hopes of achieving perfection by not letting anything go amiss. – I wanted us to have everything we could want. I apologize if this is too much.

\- You act as if everything I could ever want isn’t right here. – the demon replied earnestly, surprising even himself with his smoothness. He grabbed the angel’s chin softly and planted a small peck on his lips. – Not sure I can compete with food for **your** heart, though. I mean, – he grabbed a piece of chocolate and dangled it in front of his boyfriend’s eyes, with a teasing smile in his lips. – we both know what’s your choice here.

Aziraphale quirked an eyebrow at the demon’s provocation, a mischievous smile making way to his lips. He grabbed the chocolate he was being offered (_So predictable, _Crowley thought fondly) before pressing it against the demon’s mouth, instead of his own. Crowley, confused, took it, and he barely had time to think about how delicious it was before the angel’s lips crashed against his own in a French kiss, tasting the chocolate from inside his mouth. He leaned back after he was done, with the smuggest of smiles, before asking: – You were saying, dearest?

\- Point taken, angel. – conceded the demon with an amused chuckle, for once very happy to have been proved wrong.

Aziraphale, feeling all warm and tingly on the inside from the stream of happiness emanating from his boyfriend, proceeded to fill their glasses with wine (it was a good one from 1936, he’d been saving it up for a special occasion such as this) while Crowley nibbed on another piece of chocolate. He usually wasn’t the biggest fan of chocolate, or of food in general to be quite honest, but this one was exceptionally good, and his angel had made it even better just now. Maybe he would get a little more into sweets, if it would earn him another few kisses like that.

He was already on his fourth piece when Aziraphale passed him one of the glasses, now filled to the brim with wine, while angling his own glass slightly in his direction, non-verbally inviting him to a toast.

\- To us, love. – the angel said, those three words carrying a deeper meaning beyond what was explicitly said. _To everything we went through to get here. To everything that we are, that we have. To everything that is yet to come, whatever happens. To our love._

\- To us, angel. – echoed the demon, clinking their glasses together in agreement to all of those unspoken things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Although they were 6000-year-old beings, and therefore, as far from the regular definition of “teenagers” as possible, if you considered the magnitude of their everlasting lifespans, a case could be made that the sweet age of six millennia could be the equivalent of adolescence in regards to immortal beings. Which would certainly fit the pair of them pretty well, having both angel and demon symbolically had their most rebellious streak at that age; they even did the classic “run away from home” shtick and everything.
> 
> [2] In fact, Crowley was the one responsible for the invention of movie adaptations of books, motivated solely by the fact that he wanted to at least begin to understand some of his angel’s babbling about his favorite stories, but lacked the patience to actually read said stories (There was nothing he would not do for Aziraphale, but reading a 900-page novel was just too much. He had to draw the line somewhere.). His excuse to Hell had been that he was promoting Sloth by discouraging people to take the effort to read the source material. It worked.
> 
> [3] It had been late at night, three days before this story takes place. Crowley had just woken up from one of his bone-chilling nightmares and decided there was no way in Heaven he would be able to go to sleep again that night. He went to his living room, trying to kill some time until 8 in the morning, when he would meet his angel for breakfast. He turned on the TV to see if there was anything good on and stumbled upon a movie called Pride and Prejudice, which had barely started. Recognizing it as one of Aziraphale’s favorite books and with absolutely nothing better to do, he decided to give it a shot.  
1 hour in and he was still watching it avidly, feeling some kind of kinsmanship with Mr. Darcy, since both of them were unrequitedly in love with a brilliant, prideful, stubborn, amazing bookworm. He even felt a wave of emotion at the end when it all worked out, happy that at least one of them could get to have their loved one. He immediately felt a wave of depression on the aftermath though, a happy ending like that hitting him way too close to home. He hadn’t even mentioned to his angel that he had seen the movie, even knowing he would be delighted to talk about it.
> 
> [4] Although there actually were what you might consider pornographic novels inside the bookshop, none of them were for sale (actually, none of the books were actually for sale, but those ones didn’t even pretend to be), hidden away on a private section of the shop where only the angel had access to. His bookshop was a family-friendly establishment, for Someone’s sake! Besides, all of his copies were particularly worn down and covered in annotations, no one would ever even actually want to buy them.
> 
> [5] Even though both of them could miracle into existence pretty much anything their imaginations could devise, there was always a distinctive contrast between real and miracled objects. It was a really tiny difference, literally imperceptible to humans, but it was really noticeable to the beings who could perform such miracles. It wasn’t that bad, but it always left them slightly unsettled, as if something wasn’t right. For instance, miracled food always tasted somewhat artificially, which was why they insisted on actually going out to eat or cooking food themselves.
> 
> [6] Quite literally forever, as it would barely take a miracle for him to assure that that flower would never wither or die, instead to be kept with him until the dawn of time as the first token of love his beloved had given him. Maybe Crowley would do the same with his received bouquet, which would result in both flowers being kept on pristine condition as symbols of their first official date, forever and ever. Just maybe.
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	6. Epilogue: The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after their picnic, and everything that happened in the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow i almost can't believe i actually managed to finish this this  
i'm really sorry for this took so long, i had some really terrible problems in my personal life + college finals, so i actually had no time/emotional disposition to write for a while  
but alas, i finished it. and i actually quite liked it, i hope you guys do too. it is 8k of pure, unadulterated fluff, everything we've all been waiting for.  
like the tags say, it has no actual smut (mostly because i can't write it without getting really flustered lol maybe some day) but there are some talk about having sex. i tried to make it purposefully vague so you can imagine whatever you'd like ;)  
finally, i'd like to thank everyone who read it thus far for all the support you guys have given me. i hadn't written a multi-chaptered fic in years, and i almost didn't hink i would be able to get it to the end, but you guys's support made all the difference to me :). so thank you all, and i hope you enjoy this epilogue.

-_24 HOURS LATER-_

When Crowley woke up, he was alone in his bed.

Not that this was uncommon in any sort of way, and, in normal circumstances, it would warrant no need for a special mention like that. In fact, if those were normal circumstances, the odd thing would have been if he had **not **woken up by himself, since he had not shared a bed with any other being ever since the historical ages of communal sleeping.

However, these weren’t normal circumstances, by any means. After all, it’s not every day that you wake up after having sex with the love your life for the first time (or, in this case, for multiple first times, if you catch my drift1). Quite a one of a kind event, you might say. Distinctive enough for it to merit a change in one’s waking up patterns, at least in the demon’s mindset.

The deep-seated yet strongly repressed romantic side of his had secretly expected to wake up in his angel’s arms, and for the first thing for him to see to be Azirphale’s peaceful sleeping face, or perhaps, his shining blue eyes, looking straight back at him. Maybe, if he were lucky, they would share a good morning kiss, and then Aziraphale would say he loved him one more time, and, just maybe, everything would be alright.

The rational and realistic side of his was quick to laugh viciously at this foolish display of romanticism, though. _What the Heaven do you think you’re living in, a fucking click-flick?,_ he chastised himself harshly. _This is reality, not a fucking rom-com, where everything is oh so perfect and idealized._ Of course his angel wasn’t there. Why would he be? Aziraphale never slept, he didn’t even own a bed, which had been the whole reason why they had come back to his flat after their date. He had wanted for them to go to the bookshop (he had always felt more at ease there, that cluttered mess of books being more of a home to him than any other place in all of Creation, even throughout history), but Aziraphale had insisted that they should do this properly, in a bed (“Angel, we could fuck on the floor of your bookshop and I’d be more than happy.”, he had said, only to receive an outraged “Crowley!” in response).

He had probably gotten bored of watching Crowley sleep (the demon knew he tended to snore and drool in an undignifying manner whenever he was tired, and fuck, hadn’t Aziraphale tired him up to exhaustion earlier) and left soon after he had fallen asleep. He had even carefully made his side of the bed, making it look as if it had never seen another occupant. As if everything had been a dream, a wild beyond his fantasies, impossibly vivid and inherently flawless dream.

It hadn’t been a dream, though. He could still feel the lingering aftereffects of hours on end of fucking – or “lovemaking”, as Aziraphale would rather he spoke –, those feelings of pleasant aches and soreness, all over his body. He pressed a finger at the lovebite on his neck, the first of many that came afterwards, relishing the slight pain derived from it as a confirmation of the reality of it all.

Holy shit, he had really kissed Aziraphale (quite a lot, in actuality). They had really had sex, and lots of it. They were together, as together as they could possibly be. _Holy shit._ An unrestrained, euphoric, positively blinding smile made its way to his lips, and he had to throw an arm over his eyes in an effort to contain his boundless joy, lest he would probably discorporate from it. He wanted to roar madly with laughter, he wanted to cry his eyes out, he wanted to yell until the vocal cords of his corporation snapped.

He did neither of these things, though. Instead, he chose to grab the neatly arranged pillow on the other side of the bed, desperately hoping there was a lingering angelic smell in it. He buried his nose in it, took a deep breath, and, oh, there it was, the sweetest and most intoxicating scent in all of Creation. If he could not wake up with his angel in his arms, a pillow drenched in his scent would serve as passable substitute. Not that it was nearly as soft as him, of course.

He intended on going to sleep once more, as a palliative measure to ignore his insatiable craving for his angel. He should probably wait a few hours, preferably another day, before getting in touch with him again; the last thing the demon wanted was to come off as clingy or suffocating or anything. But he should probably come up with something for when he did drop by at the bookshop; he would bring him some chocolates, maybe even a recently-published book his angel hadn’t had the chance to get his hands on. Now that he didn’t need to pretend or hide his overwhelming affection for the love of his life, he was free to spoil his angel rotten, and spoil him he would.

Crowley was on the verge of falling asleep, sweetly lulled by his boyfriend’s comforting scent, when a terrible, urgent, borderline unthinkable thought crossed his mind. It felt like a bucket of freezing water had just been dropped onto him, washing away any remnant of sleepiness from him in a millisecond. What if… what if Aziraphale wasn’t there because he had actually Fallen after what they had done, just like he had terribly feared for so long? What if he was being tortured at that very moment, like all new demons were, while he was selfishly slothing away like this? The thought of any demon laying a hand on even one of his pure, sweet, lovely angel’s feathers was enough to almost make him regurgitate all that he had eaten during their picnic, leaving an unbearingly bitter taste on his mouth.

He all but immediately jumped out of bed, any plans of stalling for time as to not seem too needy and annoying immediately going out the window. He needed to see his angel at **that very moment**. Crowley would not be able to even properly breathe until he saw him, safe and sound, pleasantly sitting in his favorite chair on the bookshop, sipping some tea or cocoa on that angel-shaped mug of his and reading some of his favorite first edition books for the umpteenth time, not a single black feather marring his angelical, beautiful white wings. Best case scenario, he would just come out as a paranoid dumbass and make a fool of himself in front of Aziraphale, which was par for the course, at this point.

Worst case scenario, though… his mind was already conjuring up a thousand plans on how he could possibly save his angel from Hell, whatever it took. There was no way in all of Creation he would let Aziraphale be tortured.

He fished his black boxer from where it was lying carelessly on the ground (the only piece of clothing of his that had actually made its way to the bedroom, with the rest of his clothes probably scattered all around the flat. Things had gotten a bit too…steamy… between them, before they had even gotten to the bedroom) and hastily put them on, before quickly rushing out of his bedroom without a second thought. In doing so, however, he missed the fact that there was another set of clothes, carefully folded into a pile, laying upon the armchair on the corner of his bedroom. Clothes that weren’t his own, so distinct from his own sense of style just like night contrasted with day.

He knew he was in no shape to perform any demonic miracles, his own paranoid and terrified state of mind disturbing the much-needed focus he needed to do them. He knew from experience that making any attempt at using his powers in this emotional state to, for example, miracle his own clothes on, would most likely end up in a time-consuming, if not dangerous, backfiring inconvenience. So, he resigned himself to do things the old-fashioned, human way.

He made a quick beeline for the kitchen, the closest room to the bedroom. He was pretty sure they had at least stopped there on the previous night, with his angel making sure to put the leftovers away lest they would go bad (he smiled softly at that, his chest warming up so pleasantly at Aziraphale’s antics).When he entered it, however, he was presented with a sight that almost made him weak in the knees, stealing all the breath that had somehow managed to infiltrate his stale, panicked lungs.

Aziraphale was standing over by the stove, with his back to Crowley, apparently fidgeting with some kitchen utensils, seeming as cheerful and unscathed as always. The only notable difference from his usual presentation was his choice of clothing: he was only wearing his tartan boxers and a… worn out buttoned black shirt (_Isn’t that one of my old shirts?_, Crowley thought, trying to ignore how appealing the idea of Aziraphale wearing his clothes was)? There was a smell of frying eggs in the air, along with that of toast and bacon, but none of that mattered.

What really, truly mattered, was the smell that **wasn’t** there: there was no trace of sulfur or brimstone on the air (his own scent notwithstanding, of course), and Crowley knew damn well that any new demon would strongly reek of sulfur and Hellfire for miles and miles away. Besides, if his angel had really Fallen, he wouldn’t be able to be standing properly, like he currently was, for at least a few days; the excruciating pain of having your wings melt away to ashes and the feeling of breaking pretty much each and every one of your bones was too unbearable for any recently Fallen angel to even stay seated without wincing harshly at any minuscule movement.

Which meant… he hadn’t fucking Fallen.

_Thank fucking **Someone**._

The wave of pure, unadulterated relief that hit him at that realization was enough to make him dizzy, and he had to lean on the wall beside him to keep his knees from actually giving out. Such a massive burst of easiness didn’t go unnoticed by the angel, who immediately turned his head back to investigate the source of this sudden burst of positive feeling. As soon as his eyes registered the sight of the demon, his entire facial expression shifted from casual neutralness to an elated excitement, his eyes immediately gaining a spark of brightness, practically a Pavlovian response at the sight of him. He grinned widely, the dish he had been preparing on the stove quickly forgotten as if it were nothing; it could burn to a crisp, for all he cared, before Aziraphale would divert his attention from his suddenly appearing lover.

\- Crowley! – he exclaimed blissfully, promptly crossing the distance between them with a hastiness quite uncharacteristic for him. That was good, considering that the demon himself had wanted to do the same thing, but hadn’t trusted himself to not stumble pathetically if he let go of the wall so soon. In what felt like less of a second, the angel had effectively eliminated the distance between them, throwing himself on the demon’s arms and trapping him in a loving hug, snuggling his head on his shoulder with a happy smile.

Crowley, although a bit startled by the embrace at first (it would take him at least a few months for him to be completely used to any sort of casual affection like this), was quick to wrap his arms around his angel too, pulling him towards his chest until there was absolutely no space between their bodies. There it was, his much-needed morning cuddle. Everything was right in the world again. – Good morning… – he mumbled into the angel’s hair, placing a sweet kiss on his forehead.

\- Good morning, love. – the angel replied, kissing his shoulder in response. – Although it isn’t actually morning, Crowley. It is actually almost five in the afternoon.

– Yea, I kinda thought so. – he admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He knew their lovemaking session had gone for far longer than what would be usual, but he hadn’t quite figured out how long he had slept. – Why are you still here, though? Thought you’d have left by now, bored to tears without any books to distract you.

\- Oh, quite the contrary, dearest. – he leaned back a little so he could look at his face, giving him a warm smile – For once, I did end up sleeping for a few hours after you fell asleep. I’m guessing all of our strenuous activities from last night left me quite worn out. And why would you say you don’t have any books? I found one of them, lying around by your living room, and I took the liberty of skimming over it. I hope you don’t mind. – he confessed, hoping the demon would not be off-put by that. – I do hope I haven’t overstayed my welcome, though. I apologize if I did.

\- Angel, what’s mine is yours. You can stay here as long as you’d like, consider this your second house if you want. – the demon answered, smirking amusedly at his angel’s bashfulness. As if he could ever be unwelcome in his house, or in any aspect of his life, really. A certain part of his speech struck him as weird, though: – Wait, what did you say about a book? I don’t have any books.

\- You do so! At least I found one, about Astronomy. – he clarified, hoping it would lead to a spark of recognition.

\- Wait, what? You read that? Why? – he questioned, quirking his eyebrow slightly – You don’t give a crap about Astronomy.

\- I’ll admit that it isn’t my first choice on reading topics, but it is always good to expand one’s field of interest. Especially if it is your significant other’s favored topic. – Aziraphale countered, feeling a pleasant rush inside him for being able to refer to Crowley as such. – Besides, I ended up learning about a bunch of interesting things. For instance… – his expression suddenly turned from soft to mischievous, a clear sign that his bastardness was about to shine through. – Are you a black hole?

\- Why, because I suck all the light of your life, like the demon I am? – Crowley answered sarcastically, really hoping Aziraphale wasn’t doing what he thought he was doing.

\- No, because the pull that I feel towards you is irresistible. – the angel corrected him with a toothy, smug smile. He was rewarded with an irritated grunt, which only made his grin grow wider.

\- Ugh. – Crowley groaned, raising one of his hands to rub his face in annoyance, although there was an undeniable fondness at the center of it. What had he done to deserve this, to deserve his angel throwing astronomical pick-up lines at him? – Stop it. You’re ruining Astronomy for me.

\- Are you a supernova? – Aziraphale kept going, even more pleased with himself. – Because I’ve never seen anything shine as bright as you do.

\- I’m breaking up with you. – Crowley announced, trying really hard to sound annoyed, but it was taking all of his effort to not grin affectionately at his boyfriend’s silliness.

\- No, you aren’t. – the angel countered, his smug grin turning into a warm smile. He whispered his next words in a soft, reverent manner, as if he himself was still trying to get used to this marvelous idea:– You love me.

\- You’re lucky I do. – the demon answered sardonically, but there was no hiding the warmth in his smile and gaze anymore. Their gazes met for a second, both of those utterly filled to the brim with adoration for the person they were looking at, before their mouths quickly followed suit and locked themselves together in a sweet, gentle kiss. Aziraphale moved his arms upwards so he was draping them over the demon’s shoulders, feeling the need to pull him even closer, while Crowley tenderly encircled the angel’s waist, cradling it as if it were the most precious thing he had ever held.

Unlike the desperate urgency that had permeated their first kiss, they kissed slowly this time, almost painfully so. They kissed like they had all the time in the world to just spend just like that, locked into an everlasting kiss, and they could easily have spent at least the rest of the century on it, if not for the stench of burning food invading both their nostrils and reminding them that, yes, there **was** a whole Universe besides their little happy bubble of love.

\- Oh, no! The eggs! – Aziraphale exclaimed, quickly letting go of their embrace-slash-kiss so he could run back to the stove. He tried to save them, quickly scraping them off the pan, but to no avail; they were already burned beyond repair. – I completely forgot about the eggs!

\- Why are you even cooking, angel? – Crowley asked, walking towards the angel and hugging him from behind, even resting his chin on his shoulder. No way he would let some fucking eggs take his boyfriend away from him. – If you’re hungry, you could have reheated some of the leftovers from yesterday.

\- Oh, these aren’t for me, love. Not all of it, I mean. – the angel clarified, smiling softly at the sudden resume of their embrace. He slightly turned his face towards the demon’s head, nuzzling his cheek from the side, in a show of his appreciation for the affection, as he quickly miracled the pan clean and grabbed another egg, gently breaking it into the pan. – I… I wanted to cook you breakfast on bed. I know that you aren’t as keen on eating as I am, but I thought that you might feel a little peckish when you woke up, with your corporation needing to replenish your energy after everything we did last night. – he let out a soft sigh, a mild wave of disappointment washing over him – I wanted to surprise you, but you woke up before I could finish it. Oh well. I’ll just have to do it some other time.

\- Sorry... – the demon mumbled apologetically into the angel’s ear, although the idea of Aziraphale tying to surprise him like that brought an uncontrollably fond smile to his lips. As if he hadn’t surprised him more than enough in the last 24 hours for the rest of the century.

\- Nonsense, dearest. – countered the angel, breaking another egg and starting to mix them with a wooden spoon. – I was should have started cooking sooner, instead of spending so long just lounging in bed with you, reading that book. Although, I will say, it isn’t entirely my fault. You almost didn’t let me get up in the first place, grabbing onto me as if you were a magnet. – he let a tender smile, remembering how Crowley had lovingly reached out to him in his sleep, snuggling into him as if he were the only heat source in all of Creation. – Quite adorable, if you ask me.

Crowley, although slightly embarrassed by how pathetically clingy he was, even when unconscious, smirked at the knowledge that Aziraphale was just as uncontrollably drawn to him as he was. Guess he was not the only one having trouble letting go_._ – Huh. That explains why I slept so well for the first time in a week. Your angelic nature must have chased away my nightmares.– he pondered thoughtfully, before his smirk broke into a teasing grin, his tone shifting from contemplative to mischievous: – Guess you’re gonna have to stay by my side every night now, then.

\- Gladly. – the angel replied in a casual tone, not even batting an eyelid as he continued to mix his eggs. – Although, if you don’t terribly mind, I would like if we found a new place to live together. I don’t think either of our current residences is fit to house both of us in the long-term, don’t you think?

\- What? – questioned the demon, jumping back in shock and breaking away from their embrace, completely startled by his angel’s reaction. He had expected him to tease back, to roll his eyes in fond exasperation or even to give him a “_Really, my dearest?_”. Not for him to take it seriously and to practically agree for them to move in together, just like that, over a fucking joke. - Angel? What…? Are you serious?

Aziraphale, annoyed by the interruption of their much-welcome snuggling, quickly turned the oven off so he wouldn’t burn another set of eggs, and turned towards the astonished demon behind him. He smiled softly at that show of astonishment on the demon’s whole body language, before gently grabbing his hands and answering on a sweet, yet serious tone: - Of course I am serious, Crowley. I would want nothing more than to spend every night with you, as well as every morning, just like this. – a shadow of sorrow passed through his eyes, and he started absentmindedly caressing the demon’s fingers – I am really sorry for my sudden forwardness, it’s just…we, I mean, **I** have wasted too much time already, and I don’t want to waste any more of it, if I can help it. – he smiled lovingly, placing a kiss on the tips of Crowley’s fingers. He could feel a great wave of happiness emanating from his lover, and he was pretty sure that he would agree to his proposal, but decided to reassure him, just in case: - Unless you don’t want to, which is perfectly fine, of course. You have every right to, and I obviously won’t force you into anything you don’t want.

\- No, no, it’s all I ever wanted, I swear. – Crowley quickly replied, with more honesty than half of the angels on Heaven had on a daily basis. There was nothing he had ever desired more than to have this, this sort of casual domesticity and easy intimacy with his angel. To be able to wake up and see his lovely face, every day, for the rest of his life. It would have been the one thing worth selling his soul for, if demons could make deals with the devil 2. – Fuck, yes, I want to. More than anything. It’s just… - he gesticulated wildly, trying to convey into actions what he couldn’t articulate into words. How the fuck do you describe the overwhelming feeling of going from 0 to 100 in the scale of wish-fulfillment and in such a short span of time? Part of him was still trying to come to terms with their first kiss, and here was Aziraphale, offering him everything just like that, on a silver platter.

\- Too fast? - Aziraphale suggested, in a guilty and remorseful tone; however, there was an undeniably mischievous glint on his eyes, just like someone who had just remembered an inside joke, and was trying really hard to keep himself from spilling it on an inappropriate moment. He was probably way too amused by their sudden role reversal, and Crowley couldn’t decide if he wanted to punch him or kiss him. That’s what he got, for falling in love with a…

\- Bastard. – he settled on gently flicking his forehead, which elicited a delighted giggle from his angel. – For someone who said I went too fast for them, you are rushing like a madman, y’know? Not that I’m complaining, of course, but I mean, we’ve been dating for literally 24 hours. Can I expect a proposal ‘till the end of the evening? – he teased, trying to pretend that the idea of actually marrying Aziraphale didn’t stir something deep inside him. It was merely a human tradition, of no actual validity to supernatural beings such as them, but it was the idea of being pledged to someone (not just to someone, but to **Aziraphale**) “until death did them part” that was practically irresistible to him. Especially considering that, as immortal beings, such a promise meant actual **eternity** (save for unwanted and unwelcomed interferences from their ex-Head Offices, but no need to spoil the sentiment).

Fuck, Aziraphale was turning him into a sap. If anyone of his former lot knew about that, he’d be the laughing stock of Hell for at least a thousand years. Not that he gave a fuck about that, obviously.

\- You are acting as if we just met on one of those dating apps you created, and not as if we have known each other for literally more than six thousand years. – the angel countered with a fond roll of his eyes, but he quickly sobered up into seriousness once more. He raised his gaze to look straight into his boyfriend’s eyes, hoping he would see all the determination and earnestness inside him when he said what he was about to: - I have finally caught up to you now, love. I am so, so sorry it took me so long, but now I’m trying to make up for the lost time. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life, however long may that be, by your side, if you’ll let me. – he smiled tenderly, raising his hand to caress the snake sigil up the demon’s right jaw.

\- Ngk. – Crowley sputtered, with the combination of the raw adoration in his angel’s eyes and his disgustingly loving words almost making him choke on thin air. It felt like being shot straight in the chest with a laser beam of absolute love, and he had to physically avert his gaze before he started doing something embarrassing, like blushing or sputtering some sentimental bullcrap, Someone forbid. – I, I love you too and I-I feel the same, of course. Just… just know that you won’t get rid of me easily if we do this. – he joked, desperate for some change of subject, preferably to something less sentimentally charged. His demonic constitution was fatally unprepared to feel so much love directed at him.

\- Oh, I do hope so. – Aziraphale answered earnestly, smiling tenderly at his lover’s bashfulness. It was really adorable, how easily his boyfriend fell apart at the seams at the barest demonstration of love. And the angel wasn’t even trying hard, he was merely speaking his mind. Imagine what would happen when he actually tried.

\- Let me… let me help you, or you’ll never finish this breakfast. – Crowley offered, hoping to distract himself out of this pathetic, flustered mess by focusing on something concrete. Coffee, that’s what he needed. Some good fucking caffeine would sort him out. He went over to the counter on the other side of the kitchen, where he kept all his coffee supplies, and started prepping the coffeemaker to make him his much needed daily dose of coffee. - Do you want tea or cocoa?

\- Tea, please. Do you have any Earl Grey? – Aziraphale answered, turning back to the oven to finish their eggs.

\- ‘Course I do. What kind of host do you take me for? – the demon answered, filling the electric kettle with water and turning it on, before reaching up on his tiptoes for the cabinet where he kept his elegant albeit rarely used tea bag box3;. Some of the tea sachets were at least a few decades old, but a good old demonic miracle made them good as new. He fiddled with it for a few seconds, searching for an Earl Grey packet, until finding it hidden in the back of the box and retrieving it.

All the while during that, he felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck, and he didn’t even need his preternatural demonic senses to tell him that he was being watched. He could almost physically sense Aziraphale’s unwavering stare directed at his back from across the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder and, yep, there it was, the look of pure and stark affection mixed in with an unbridled desire in his lover’s eyes. It was almost disconcerting, how much he loved and wanted him. - See something you like, angel? – he asked flirtatiously, wiggling his eyebrows with a smirk.

\- Oh, I am merely admiring all my work from last night, that’s all. – Aziraphale answered with a small shrug, but Crowley could practically hear the cheekiness dripping out of his voice.

\- Hm? – he mumbled absentmindedly, before looking down to actually access the state of his body. – Damn. – he mumbled softly, seeing the way his whole torso was covered in hickeys and bruises; there were even a few lovebites between his legs, on his inner thighs. He reached with his hands to examine the state of his back, only to find it mercilessly scratched. – You really did a number on me, huh, Aziraphale?

\- It’s not my fault if you are temptation incarnate, dearest. – the angel answered in a flirtatious, yet earnest tone. – I could not possibly keep my hands off of you, now that I am allowed to.

\- Look who’s talking – the demon retorted wittily, never passing up an opportunity to extol his boyfriend’s attractiveness. – Speaking of which, why are you wearing my shirt? Trying to hide my own work from me?

\- Oh, I just, I mean…- Aziraphale stammered a little, bashfully playing with his fingers. He suddenly felt as if he were a kid caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. - I saw it hanging off from your armchair, and I wanted to, I mean, your scent…- he started explaining himself nervously, but his voice trailed off as he saw the demon approach him again with no accusation or in his eyes, just mere curiosity and fondness.

\- Can I? – Crowley asked breathlessly, his fingers grazing over the buttons of the shirt. Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically, and the demon began to slowly unbutton the shirt, with some sort of reverence only ever found in an extremely religious person in regards to the object of their devotion. Soon, he finished unbuttoning it to the last button, and the angel was quick to take it off, letting it fall to the floor as if it were a piece of trash to a litterer. – Fuck, angel. – the demon let out a breathless sigh at the sight he was presented with: his angel’s skin, mostly marred with hickeys and bruises as well, leading all the way up from his neck down to his hips and legs. He could barely remember leaving most of those marks, his lust-addled brain more focused on memorizing the feeling of finally having sex the love of his life in general, but they did form a pretty picture on him.

He gently brushed his fingers over one particularly nasty bruise, over his hip, eliciting a small, contained moan from Aziraphale. Crowley raised an eyebrow at that, a smug smile making its way to his lips as he remembered another way to draw some kind of reaction from his angel by his touch, something he had learned on their previous sexual activities. He raised his hand slightly so it would rest on his side, before using it to tickle it just at the right spot to make the angel in his arms to double over in laughter.

\- Hah, hahah, Cr-Crowley, s-stop it! – Aziraphale begged, already breathless by his laughter, folding in on himself instinctively in response to the assault.

\- Nope. – the demon denied his request, enraptured by his angel’s pure and earnest laughter. He added his other hand to the mix, effectively tickling both sides of his torso, which only made Aziraphale laugh harder and curl up on himself even more. – No mercy for you. What kind of demon would I be if I went easy on an angel? – he joked, both of them knowing that it would take less than a miracle for the angel to get away if he really wanted to. After a few seconds of tickling Aziraphale to his heart’s content, the electric kettle made a disarming sound, switching off as the water inside it reached its boiling point. Crowley finally ceased his merciless tickling at that, letting his angel go with a kiss on his cheek. - Saved by the bell. – he announced sarcastically, going back to the counter with the electric kettle and coffee machine.

\- Good…always prevails… over Evil,…sweetheart. – Aziraphale announced flippantly, still trying to catch his (unnecessary) breath. Once he got a hold of himself, he went back to his task of scraping the now ready eggs into the two plates, already filled with toast and bacon.

\- Sure. – Crowley answered sardonically, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation while grabbing two mugs from the mug rack to his side. He finished his angel’s cup of tea, just how he liked it (two sugars, pleasantly hot) and poured a fair amount of coffee on his own mug (a devil-shaped one, black with a red stereotypical demon’s tail as handle; it had come as a set with the one he had gifted Aziraphale) – You’re just pissy ‘cause I’m not ticklish so you can’t do this to me. – he retorted with a quirk of his eyebrow, taking their drinks to the small dining table on corner of the kitchen.

\- Oh, I am fairly certain that you are ticklish, dearest. I just haven’t found your right spot yet. – Aziraphale answered smugly, fairly confident in his assumption. He took their plates, along with two sets of silverware, to the aforementioned table, where Crowley was already sitting on. He deposited one of the plates in front of the demon, before sitting down with his own plate on the other chair, diametrically opposed to the demon, where his cup of tea was already waiting for him.

They ate quietly for a while, all to comfortable to just be on the other’s presence like that, until Crowley abruptly broke the silence: - Y’know, I always thought that, if we ever got together, I’d be lucky if I got you to even try missionary sex with me. – He flashed a mischievous grin, before continuing: - Imagine my surprise when I realized that I had, in fact, found myself with the kinkiest angel in Heaven.

\- I am not completely sure if I’m supposed to be flattered or offended by that. – Aziraphale replied coyly, a faint blush on his cheeks for being called out like that.

\- Oh, I mean it as a compliment, totes. – the demon clarified, munching absentmindedly at his toast.

\- Oh. Thank you, then. – the angel replied with a small smile, taking a sip of his tea. – And we haven’t even tried my best ideas yet. – he flashed a small wink, an implicit offering of a future time. 

\- Glad to know that. – Crowley said, accepting the unspoken proposal wholeheartedly. - But seriously, angel, you are one kinky bastard. – he teased fondly, meaning it in the most endearing way possible. - I mean, I can’t imagine any other angel wanting to use food in their foreplay. Not that it was any surprise to me, of course.

Aziraphale tried to hide his growing blush behind his mug, but one look at the demon’s devious smirk shattered any of his illusions of managing to do so. _Well,_ he thought, lowering his cup and willing the redness on his cheeks away,_ two can play this game, love._ \- I don’t know about that, but I am pretty sure that no other demon has a… what do you call it? – he smiled that bastard smirk of his, that kind of smile reserved exclusively for when he was about to tease the Hell out of his favorite person. - A praise kink.

Crowley, who had been taking a good mouthful of coffee, almost spat it all out at the angel’s provocation. - Shut up! – he shouted, feeling his cheeks getting warmer by the second in mortification, but his protest was drowned by the sound of amused giggling coming from his lover. - That’s why I didn’t want to tell you about it! I knew you’d be a bloody bastard about it.

\- I have already told you, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. – Aziraphale reassured him, still smiling bastardly, but there was nothing but kind earnestness in his tone. He reached out for his boyfriend’s hand across the table, offering it as some sort of proverbial olive branch. Crowley immediately took it and laced their fingers together, although there was still a significant blush on his cheeks. - It’s a perfectly natural, wholesome thing to desire, and I am most certainly happy to indulge you in it. It’s almost second nature to me to compliment you.

\- It’s fucking embarrassing, that’s what it is. Especially for a demon. – Crowley grumbled annoyingly, contorting his lips in what certainly was not a pout (it was). - At least I don’t get off on hearing my boyfriend talk dirty in my ear while we’re fucking. Really did not see that one coming, angel.

The angel shrugged his shoulders, not quite finding that one so odd. He scooped the last remains of food on his plate with his spoon and ate them, always the one to finish their shared meals first. He eyed the remaining food on the demon’s plate wistfully, a silent plea on his eyes, before continuing their friendly banter: – You talk big for someone who fell apart at hearing me swear during sex.

\- It’s your fault for not saying them more often. – Crowley argued, catching the angel’s longing look at his food and feeding him a bite from his own eggs. - ‘Sides, it’s hot seeing you lose control like that, especially because of me. – he whispered this last part, almost wishing Aziraphale wouldn’t hear it. He did, though, and grinned amusedly, the fork still on his mouth. - Besides, if you want to talk about being lame in bed, don’t forget that you asked me to read poetry while I touched you, angel. – he gave him an affectionate smile, as a reassurance that there was no actual bark on his words. - You’re such a dork.

\- Your rendition of those sonnets was perfect, I must say. Everything I ever imagined it would be. – the angel announced in a reverent tone, caressing fondly the hand on his grasp. He felt his gaze soften at the memory, the earlier playfulness from their teasing banter being giving way inside him to some sober affection, and he gave the demon a sweet, adoring smile. – Thank you for indulging me.

\- Anytime, angel. My pleasure. – Crowley quickly dismissed his unneeded gratitude, instantly picking up the change in the mood and welcoming it. He raised their joined hands to his lips, kissing the angel’s fingers lightly, before feeding him another bite, this time of his toast. – ‘Sides, you’re not the only one being indulged here. I mean, you were all too keen on humoring me with my idea for our wings.

\- Oh, but that was a wonderful idea, dearest. – Aziraphale said enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up like two twin stars in his excitement. - I am almost ashamed that I didn’t think of that first. You and me, and our wings wrapped around us… - he let out a soft sigh, the (quite huge) romantic side of his completely swirling out of control inside him.

\- Yeah… - the demon murmured softly, too besotted by the lovey-dovey look on his angel’s face to be able to articulate any further. Satan, Aziraphale was **really** turning him into a sap4;. He found that he didn’t care about it that much, though. - By the way, speaking of wings, that last thing we did, with our true forms…

\- Oh, that was quite delightful, wasn’t it? – the angel asked, taking the last sip of his tea. - We should definitely try that again, sometime soon.

\- We have to spend a whole fucking day just doing that, for Someone’s sake. – the demon agreed enthusiastically, feeding the last bit of bacon on his plate to his angel. As soon as he was done, he snapped his fingers, and their dishes were suddenly all washed, dried and put back into their places, feeling more confident in using his demonic powers now that his state of mind had greatly improved.

After that, their conversation seemed to die out, neither having much more to say about their incipient sex life or about anything else, really. However, instead of the lack of conversation leading into any sort of awkward and painfully stretched-out silence, it delved into a comfortable silence, that kind of silence that is only possible after a long-standing relationship, where everything that needed to be said has already been spoken, and it’s just enough to be on the other’s presence like that, wordlessly. They kept caressing each other’s hands and looking fondly into each other’s eyes for a while, nowhere else they’d rather be, before Crowley spoke: - So.. you want me to drop you at the bookshop, Aziraphale? – he reluctantly offered, making no move to get up or anything. The last thing he wanted was for them to part, of course, but he equally didn’t want for his angel to feel like he had to stay there out of politeness or any sense of obligation. – Gotta take you back to your books and everything.

\- I… may I stay here, just for a while longer? - the angel requested, the lovestruck expression on his face suddenly falling at those words, as he desperately racked his mind for an excuse to stay. He knew he was being entirely selfish, the demon probably wanting some time to himself, but he really didn’t want to go back to being all alone, not just yet. For once, the promise of returning to his books didn’t spark that much joy inside him, for he knew that not even a thousand books would be able to compare to this, to having the love of his life by his side, just like that. All of sudden, he had an idea, remembering one of Crowley’s offhanded remarks from the day before, and deciding to capitalize on it: - I mean, you still owe me a proper introduction to your bebop songs.

Crowley quirked an eyebrow at those words, incredulous. He stared at him for a few seconds, unblinking, before bursting into a roaring fit of laughter. – You know you don’t need an excuse to stay, right? – he replied with a smirk, finding his angel’s silliness utterly amusing. - You don’t have to force yourself to listen to my songs, angel. I know they’re not your style at all.

\- But I do want to! – Aziraphale insisted, feeling an instant relief at the reassurance, but it did nothing to diminish his newfound appeal on the idea he had proposed. - I have told you before, I want to know every single part of you, including your bebop songs.

\- …You sure about that? – he asked, torn between feeling embarrassed by his angel’s mushy words or amused by his endearing insistence. Aziraphale nodded vigorously, much to the demon’s surprise. - Okay then. Come with me. – seeing Aziraphale was really serious about this, the demon got up and gently pulled his lover by their joined hands, leading him to the living room. -Any preferences on the songs?

\- I think I would like something romantic. – Aziraphale suggested, letting himself be led on with a fond smile. – I quite liked the ones that played in your car… at least what I could hear of them, of course.

Romantic, right? Alright, he could do romantic. He would fucking sweep Aziraphale off his feet, if that’s what he wanted. He would put all of the romantic poets and authors his angel liked so much to shame. He was going to fucking redefine the worldwide standards for romance, and he felt sorry for anyone who tried their hand at romance after he did so.

Having both of them arrived at his lounge, Crowley took a moment to steal a fond glance at the bouquet he had received the day before, carefully placed in a jar of water for preservation, before snapping his fingers once more. Suddenly a slow, gentle melody started playing out of nowhere, and with a steadfast look on his eyes, the demon pulled the angel towards himself, gently embracing him, one hand on the small of his back and the other on his nape, before starting to sway them both around lightly to the rhythm of the song. As soon as the lyrics started, he started mumbling them to his lover’s forehead:

_I'll be your mirror  
Reflect what you are, in case you don't know  
I'll be the wind, the rain, and the sunset  
The light on your door to show that you're home_

_When you think the night has seen your mind  
That inside you're twisted and unkind  
Let me stand to show that you are blind  
Please put down your hands  
'Cause I see you_

\- Crowley… - Aziraphale sighed softly, feeling a lump beginning to constrict his throat from the sheer amount of affection he was feeling. Luckily, he wasn’t actually supposed to say anything else, since he was quickly silenced, as the demon gently placed a finger to his lips, quietly asking for his silence, while also planting a sweet kiss to his forehead. The combination of both gestures only served to further deepen the absolute storm of feeling inside him, and for a second he thought his corporation might actually give out, unable to contain all the absolute love he was feeling for his lover. The demon, unaware of the inner turmoil inside the angel’s heart, resumed his task of murmuring the lyrics to his forehead:

_I find it hard to believe you don't know  
The beauty you are  
But if you don't let me be your eyes  
A hand to your darkness, so you won't be afraid_

_When you think the night has seen your mind  
That inside you're twisted and unkind  
Let me stand to show that you are blind  
Please put down your hands  
'Cause I see you_

_I'll be your mirror  
I'll be your mirror  
I'll be your mirror  
I'll be your mirror  
I'll be your mirror_

\- So… what did you think? – Crowley asked timidly as the song hit its last note, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. Here he was, asking the one person he had always thought about when he listened to that song, what he thought about it. He felt as if he had ripped out his own heart from his chest and gently placed it on his angel’s hands, hoping to Hell and back he wouldn’t crush it into pieces with a negative answer.

Aziraphale, in turn, was still trying really hard to swallow down the huge wave of pure and love he was feeling, which had only grown strong with every lyric the demon had sung, and now was threatening to spill from his eyes against his will. He squeezed Crowley back for a few seconds, trying to get a hold of himself, before looking up at the demon and meeting his expectant gaze, his own eyes peppered with a few unshed tears of happiness: - I... I think I quite like bebop, after all. – he announced in a shaky yet completely enamored tone, his face split into an uncontrollable grin. - You might have to show me a few more, though, just so I can be certain.

Crowley felt his own face split into a happy grin as well, feeling a wave of relief wash over him at his angel’s words and the thinly veiled invitation in them. - Alright then. – he agreed, slightly leaning back on their embrace to gently wipe the pinpricks of tears on Aziraphale’s eyes with his thumbs, looking at him with an absurd amount of fondness. – Lucky for you, we’ve got all of eternity for that.

That early evening, it wasn’t a nightingale that sang in Berkley Square, but a demon who sang softly in Mayfair to his angel, all throughout the night, and every love song ever written was not enough to properly convey either of their feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song featured:  
\- I'll be Your Mirror - The Velvet Underground
> 
> [1] Long story short, both angels and demon’s corporations possess way more stamina and resistance than a normal human body, as a consequence of merely being vessels to inherently powerful beings. That, amongst other perks, like the ability to turn off unnecessary things like a refractory period, enables them to have sex for much longer and with much fewer limitations than an average human being. Therefore, what would seem like a ridiculous idea to a human, like having sex 9 times in a row, for hours and hours on end, becomes a mere matter of wanting for them.
> 
> [2] Of course they couldn’t, since their souls already belonged to Hell and, by proxy, to Satan. It would be like making a deal with someone and offering something that they already own to bargain. 
> 
> [3] Crowley was not a big fan of tea in general, but the box had been a gift from Aziraphale, so of course he would fill it properly with every tea flavor available to mankind. Literally. You could probably find some tea sachets that had gone off-market decades, or even centuries ago, hidden on that thing. For someone who never drank tea, he was quite a collector of it.
> 
> [4] Plot twist: He had always, deep down, been a sap. 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3.


End file.
